Astarte
by John Harbinger
Summary: Malos is a freelancer. He, along with a group of other guns for hire, gets paid to do the dirty work of the three factions that encompass the Perseus arm. The United Republics believe in democracy. Amaridian Corporation believes in economic health. The Empire believes in order. Many people are not happy with this trisect, and seek to change it. Which side will Malos take?
1. Zyklon

A/N: Hello everyone. This'll be the first chapter of a serial series that I'm doing. Chapter 2 is currently in progress, although there is no set deadline for its release. Please remember to give constructive critique and, if you don't like the story, give reasons why so I can improve. Rated T for profanity and violence in later chapters.

Astarte

Chapter 1: Zyklon

The ship was still in the expanse of space.

The interior was unkempt and dirty. Exposed wiring and insulation was worryingly prevalent on the walls of the transport cruiser. When we launched, we were surprised to find out that there wasn't a leak of air, and we could actually breathe in the ship. Not like you'd want to anyway; the ship smelt of dampness and rusted metal, and it was becoming almost an urge to put on the gas mask in my lap in a vain attempt to get rid of the smell.

There was a seatbelt for every slot on the bench, but one wasn't exactly being used. A Vortian colleague of mine was looking right out a small porthole, entirely unsecured. "Oh man, look at that! You can see the shit just festering into the air."

"Wow, Ace, what a surprise. It's like they really went through a bout of chemical warfare or whatever."

"Shut up, Connat. Just come here and look."

"Nah, you can go ahead and crack your face off. I'd rather sit."

"It's not like losing your head is a loss for you fucking Irkens, what with your… backpack things."

"Ey, when you're swindling somebody for information, it's better not to look like a freak while you're doing it."

"Yeah, like you'd know anything about that!" I chuckled slightly at the comment. I mean, Connat wasn't the prettiest person, but he wasn't a freak either. The absolutely unnecessary exchange of yelling got the attention of the pilot, who opened the door and shouted into the room, "Hey! Fuck off, you guys, I'm busy flying… oh, and Ace? Put your goddamn seatbelt on."

"Fine, whatever." Ace got down from the seat and strapped himself in. Baron had always been a little bit of a hothead. The only reason why the freelancers hired him was because he could fly a transport with relative ease. He could've been a world-renowned pilot if he didn't get mad at the Empire's decrease in soda rations and then defect to what the Empire called a "terrorist organization" early in his military career.

Connat looked at me with a smile, roughly smacking my back. "Ey, comrade, you ready to see the land of scavengers and terrible air?"

"I've been to worse."

"Yeah, well, getting beheaded is worse than getting my arm chopped off. Doesn't mean I want my arm chopped off, does it?" My expression grew worried, before he grinned and guffawed loudly. "Oh man, I'm just teasing you! It's nothing a good gas mask can't filter out. We'll be in and out before you know it."

"Right. So what are we doing here again?"

"On Zyklon? Oh, just visiting the locals, drinking the acidic shurka… maybe get a few Amaridian trade secrets for the United Republics, ey?"

"Of course you'd be into that. The UR never brushed off you, did it?"

"Great alcohol, great women. I wouldn't trade it for anything, except maybe more snacks." He paused for a moment, snickering. "And that's what I did, droog!" His laugh filled the cabin, and he smacked his hand roughly on my shoulder.

It took me a while to get used to Connat. His mannerisms were peculiar, especially for an Irken. When we hung out, he usually brought a bottle of authentic mid-UR shurka. It was terribly alcoholic, and with every meeting, he and whoever was unfortunate enough to be with him at the time drank well into the night, conversation slowly devolving into meaningless banter. That was usually when the rest of the freelancers would carry us out and throw us into our quarters to drool and crawl on the ground there.

A loudspeaker next to the door blared. "Alright, we're heading down. Prep your gear and hang on. It's going to get rough." Everyone checked their Vortian-made rifles and SMGs to make sure they were loaded, and then put on their gas masks. The ship began shaking, and it was an entirely real fear in people's minds that the ship would tear itself apart and we'd fall to our deaths. I clenched at my rifle, holding it to my chest. After this mission, we're getting a new ship. The fear of total ship annihilation is actually worse than the fear you got during missions.

The shaking slowly transformed into vertical motion and the ship touched down. The suspension audibly sprung, more in some places than others. Baron opened the door.

"Oh, sorry, you'll have to excuse the landing job. This planet's rocky as all fucking hell." All three of us unbuckled our seatbelts and fished for the filters in our jackets. Ace walked up to Baron.

"Yeah, so, uh… can I stay here and help you protect the ship? I'm not so comfortable with… you know. Going into chemical weapon plants."

"Sure, but don't screw around. I'll smack you right in the face if you so much as look the wrong way, you hear?" Ace sighs and nods his head. Baron smirks slightly and opens the door to the surface. Dirty air flooded the ship, although none of it was particularly toxic. Connat and I walked right out. Ace stayed behind. Useless little bastard.

Connat took a filter from his long coat's pocket, screwing it on. "Get your filter on, comrade. You won't need it until we get to the factory, but… just in case there are some gas packets, ey?" I nodded and screwed my filter on as well. A slight hissing sound came from the bottom of the mask before it sealed, and then I was set. Maybe I was a bit foolish to think the gas mask would filter everything, but a man can hope.

The muddied surface was gray and dead, vegetation entirely hardened to the chemically-altered surface that the previous inhabitants created. The sky was hazy and smoggy, but doesn't look overtly toxic either. Connat looked up, chuckling.

"See those clouds up there? Pure hydrogen cyanide. That'll mess you up real bad."

"So what's the problem? All the clouds are up there."

"There's such a thing as fog, man."

I stepped on a piece of vegetation. It was filled to the brim with cloudy water, although the plant's flesh felt dry. "If this place got bombarded with cyanide, then how come there's still vegetation here?"

"That's the great part. All those plants? They've managed to adapt to the point where they shrug off cyanide. They're immune to it. Doesn't stop them from dying when another chemical agent comes waltzing along."

We headed towards an abandoned factory in the horizon. It was hit by conventional explosives during the wars that destroyed this planet, and all the chemical weapons built there were destroyed and their contents released. The ground was blackened with ash around us, and pieces of rock were plastered into the grey soot of the surface.

"This place is a clusterfuck. Hydrogen cyanide, sarin gas, tactical nukes, you name it and I will bet you all my cash that this barren rock had used it in a war."

"The place's radioactive too. Great."

"Relax, we don't go over there. That entire area is razed and inaccessible, so we don't even bother."

We kept walking. As we moved closer to the factory, girders and stranded walls littered the landscape. Concrete structures were all too prevalent on the ground, and if we looked hard enough in the distance, we could see a few hollowed-out buildings. The area looked like it used to be a construction site. A greyish haze rolled in, and Connat pointed to it.

"See, that was the fog I've been telling you about, comrade! Pray to god your mask works." Connat isn't very good at encouraging people. The fog hit like a brick, and a destructive wind whistled through the concrete of the industrial landscape. I held my breath, fearing that my mask might not have sealed right. I took a brave breath in. I didn't die. That's good enough.

"Woo! Strong winds today, ey? Stay close to me." I obliged, holding right onto him as we trekked through the treacherous winds and toxic air of the ominous fog. One slip, one unsealed mask, and we'd be dead. The winds eventually died down, until the area was simply covered in haze. "Phew, that was a close one. Alright, we're almost there. No worries about the return trip. We'll call Baron over and he'll pick us up."

I let go of him and nodded. "Right. Until then, what do we do?"

He breathes in precious air before going on a tangent. "There should be an unblocked entrance to the factory through the storage area. That's where all the chemicals are… eh, dumped. We go through there, make sure we don't step in whatever fucking chemicals are in there, and then go up to the main area. If we don't die before we get upstairs, the documents should be in an office there."

"Any clue which office it is?"

"Probably the trade officer's, I'd bet."

"How many documents?"

"Every single one, comrade." He stopped and turned around to face me. "Probably an entire file cabinet's worth. That's why we brought the bags."

"What, those documents don't need room to breathe?"

"The UR just said that they needed the documents. They don't need them in pristine condition." He chuckled, stepping over a piece of barbed wire on the ground. "Careful. Those things screw up your leg."

"Thanks, Connat. I totally would not have figured that out without you."

"Hey, you were born in Astarte. Those guys probably never learn what barbed wire is."

"Doesn't mean I can't recognize some wire that's just completely covered in razors."

"Comrade, stop."

"Wh- oh shit." I backed away. I was on the verge of walking right into the barbed wire.

"Gah, keep your guard up! Do you want to lose your leg?"

I carefully stepped over it, a bit of razor snagging at my straight jackboot. I swatted it off and walked over to Connat. "There. Happy?"

He exhaled out of his gas mask, just pronounced enough to be noticeable. "Let's keep moving. Just a few more steps to go." The factory was right in front of us. The haze that has overtaken the landscape of Zyklon radiated strongly around the area. Pools of chemical waste are blotched around the vicinity, a shimmer of white against the dead, grey canvas.

The sky was a tint of red, and it looked as if it were going to explode at any minute. The wind picked up once more as Connat's Geiger counter ticked away. I felt peace of mind for a split second before I realized that our gas masks didn't protect against radiation. Connat looked at his pocket, his eyes widening.

"Shit, there isn't supposed to be radiation this far out."

"You said we were safe."

"I did, but…" He heard his counter start to tick harder, and I winced. "Shit. Shit shit shit. Okay, change of plans. You know how to run? Let's do that, comrade. Now." He turned around slowly, staring at the factory. Then he ran, broke right into a sprint. Of course, I wasn't foolish enough to stay there, so I went with him.

The sky rumbled and shook, the sound of sirens blaring in the distance. A loud boom came out of the red sky. Broken glass and concrete crunched under my boot as I made a run for it to the door, Connat pulling the door so hard it almost tore from its hinges. I dived inside and my fellow freelancer slammed the door shut.

There wasn't much talking for the first few seconds of safety. The Geiger counter calmed down, and we panted heavily. His eyes were wide under the smooth visor of his gas mask. "Well… that was a ride, huh, comrade?" He held his head in his hand, looking in his pocket. "Hey, I've got some iodide tabs. Want one?"

I nodded, moving up to him in the cramped entrance. He took a small tin out of his coat pocket, opening it up to reveal some slimy, white tablets. Who needs water when you have tablets that slime their way down your throat? I grabbed one and placed it in the palm of my hand, staring at it. Connat stared at me and smiled.

"Alright, here's how we do it," Connat said, slipping the mask momentarily off of his face. He threw the pills into his mouth and swallowed roughly, closing and resealing the mask. "There. Make sure you don't breathe in the air." I nodded and did as he did, throwing the pills in and letting the iodide do the work. As I sealed the mask around my face, I gave Connat a thumbs up. He nodded once, beginning to explore the rusty inside of the factory.

"They say that this was an Amaridian operation. Rumours circulated that they supplied the inhabitants with chemical and nuclear weapons after the planet was of no use to them. Well… I'm sure you've guessed the rest."

We walked through a narrow corridor, with locked doors lining the walls. Sand crunched beneath our boots, and I inspected every corner to make sure we didn't miss anything. "So where did those rumours come from, anyway?"

"Mostly UR comms. Trust me, the Empire wouldn't be sending that stuff out. Their bourgeoisie asses get paid because of Amaridian." Finally, we saw a room, full of leaking and punctured missiles. A pool of acidic substance melted a hole through the hard concrete and drywall of the other side of the room. "Ohoho, here we are! Isn't that beautiful?"

"It looks terrible, what are you talking about?"

"You have to appreciate a good acid once in a while. Right, comrade? It's even glowing green!"

"Yeah. Sort of a sign to stay far, far away from it, don't you think?"

"Fair enough… well, there should be another staircase somewhere around here. That'll take us to the main floor."

So we looked. If the entrance was purposefully hidden, then the people in charge of that did a really good job. It took us at least half an hour to find that staircase. The door was covered in peeled off concrete, with a steel beam blocking the entrance. Connat quickly ran over to it. I looked at him and snickered. "You can thank me later… comrade."

He threw his hands out, almost as if he were going to give the debris a hug. "Sonuvabitch! Of course it'd be blocked by debris. Why didn't we think of that sooner?"

"We can push this over, right?"

"I would think so. Here, give me a hand." We both pushed against the beam, toppling it over and grunting from the effort. Connat went and opened the door. The staircase was somewhat tiny, and only consisted of about four steps. The main floor was four steps above us. We could've threw a grenade at the wall and walked through the resulting hole. Finding that staircase seemed like a colossal waste of time.

"Oh, come on! We could've just blown up the wall or some shit," I yelled, infuriated at the effort it took for something incredibly unrewarding.

"Ey, pipe down, comrade. At least whatever's in this factory isn't alerted by our presence, right?"

"This place is deserted, Connat. What use would anybody have coming here?"

He paused for a moment, looking back at me. "Why are we here?"

"…touché."

We walked up the steep stairs to the surface, leaving the cramped corridors behind to wander into the open space of the main area. The ceilings were high, and conveyers as far as the eye could see lined the floors. Broken machines hovered over half-finished missiles, anticipating a continuation of work if they were ever turned back on. Some missiles had warheads installed, and the only reason why they haven't blown up yet is because they have no power to their sparkplugs. This place was a treasure trove if you wanted some chemical weapons.

Connat walked over to the bombs, dusting his fingers over them to find any markings. But of course, there were none. "These things were probably built in-house. Amaridian can't resist the temptation to put their logo on everything they make." He looked up at the catwalk, pushing me back. "Shhh. I hear something."

I stood there, silent. The factory had no sound whatsoever, further dampened by our helmets. The amplified gasping of our gas masks was the only thing any of us could hear. Then, there was the tap of boots above us, on the catwalk. We weren't alone. A pair of soldiers, clad in full tactical gear and black fatigues underneath, looked around at the factory, not yet seeing us.

Their type of jackboots instantly betrayed their allegiance. They were with the Irken Empire. They were very high-ranking as well; they had state-of-the-art pulse rifles, with their makings kept a state secret. Most of the galaxy used projectile ammunition. It was cheap and widely available, so when a bunch of people with pulse rifles come to a dead planet, you know something's up.

Connat moved close to me and whispered, "Dammit. Alright, follow my lead. They couldn't have gone too far with those documents. Let's check to see if they've actually found them, ey?" He points to the trade office, which was right across from us. We snuck as well as we could across to the office, avoiding machinery and conveyer belts. Connat went to the side, taking his rifle out of his long coat. I did the same. You could never be too careful with these situations.

He looked over to me, nodding. "Open and clear." I jiggled the doorknob, getting the door open and entering gun-first. Connat looked at every corner, swinging his gun around madly. He relaxed, sighing in relief. "Clear. How about you?"

"Clear. Let's check the file cabinet." As we opened each file cabinet and grabbed every single file in there, it came as a surprise that none of them were tampered with or missing. Either the Empire hadn't gotten to them before us, or they weren't interested in the files. It was a win-win situation for us, so it doesn't really matter.

We shoved all the files inside the bag, while Connat closed it up and gave it to me so I could carry it. As we walked out of the trade office, we could see the soldiers coming down to the main floor, inspecting the missiles as if they were thinking of buying them. Instinctively, we hid behind a conveyer belt and tried to make our way to an exit. Eventually, we got out. We swung the door to the outside, and what we saw shocked us both.

Irken soldiers as far as the eye could see. All of them were clad in black, some of them wearing suits and ties instead of the fatigues that the other mooks had. It's like they were setting up base here. We weren't hired to stop them, though. It didn't matter to us what the Empire did as long as we got those documents. Connat simply shook his head and called Baron on his radio.

"Baron, we're out. Land your transport somewhere discreet… why? Oh, yeah, the fucking Empire is here… no, we didn't get caught taking the- yeah, okay. We'll wait." He closed the flip radio and smiled. "That wasn't so bad, was it? We didn't even have to kill somebody that time, heh." Connat began running to the LZ, trying as best as he could to avoid the goons that the Empire threw at this factory. I followed him, but much more clumsy and without much of the stealth. We're both lucky that nobody was near us. I'd bone it up.

The evasion went on for minutes as we tried to find a good enough place to camp out before Baron got here. And then, just in the nick of time, the transport touched down in a nearby field. We ran over to it and quickly shut the door behind us. We were off. As the transport lifted off the rocky ground and blasted itself up back into space, a wash of relief overcame us. We got away with the documents and avoided killing a guy that probably had a group of friends that cared about him. I think that is good enough for the day.

The great thing about a hard mission was going to Karene Station and resting. When we warped there with our Pyhene drives, we went through security like everyone else. Of course, when they found weapons on us, they looked the other way and we were let on anyway. I walked through the pristine expanse of the station, which was booming with life. White walls surrounded us, while very noisy salesmen tried to make a quick buck off of us. Of course, we kept walking. The group finally found their quarters.

Connat sat in a ripped up chair in the main room. "Heheh, great day, comrade! How about we celebrate your first mission with a toast? Get some rest, and we'll go to one of my favourite restaurants!"

I nodded. "That sounds great. Oh… will it have shurka?"

"You know it!" He smiled at me, chuckling. "Oh, but 'just a little' for you, right?" He roughly pats at my shoulder. "I like you, comrade. You know that, right?"

"Trust me, Connat… you couldn't make it more obvious if you tried."

"That's my guy. Right, get rested and I'll see you in the evening, alright?" He smiled at me and hastily went into his own room. I put the documents down on a table, went into my room and hung up my long coat. My gun was placed at the side of my bed, unloaded. I hopped on the cot, took out a journal and started writing. Now we're all the way to the present.

I'm sitting here, writing to literally nobody in my room. Why am I writing this again? Maybe it's because I want to record my journeys. Perhaps I want to make it some sort of heirloom for whoever succeeds me. Maybe I just don't want to let these experiences go to waste. Whatever the case, this is the first time I've done this "memoir" business. I think I might have a bit of a knack for it. But for now, I'm going to go to sleep and write a bit more when I have the chance.


	2. Karene Station

Chapter 2

Karene Station

"To the freelancers!" The group shouted in unison as they rose from their seat, raising their glasses up into the air and clinking them together. When the toast was done, we all downed our shurka and banged the glass on the table. My 'orientation' was complete and this particular group of freelancers took me as one of their own. Of course, that incident on Zyklon wasn't the first time I've freelanced. Mostly I was doing scouting missions beforehand, with barely any enemy contact at all. I never got my hands dirty, and I consider myself lucky because of that.

Connat was sitting beside me, refilling his glass with the bottle at the center of the table, as well as everyone else's. When he got to me, I held out my hand.

"Oh, uh, just a little."

Connat grinned at me and nodded. "Right, you never want more than a dab. Not everyone has the strong organ sac of an UR man, after all." He chuckled, filling up a quarter of my glass. I lifted it up and started drinking. Every sip I took went down my throat with a burning sensation, and the beverage tasted essentially like pure alcohol. I clenched my eyes together and exhaled sharply.

I tried to get words out, but they came out small and weak. "…you never get used to the taste, do you?"

Connat laughed. "That's why it's so great! It never gets dull." Connat smiled and patted me on the shoulder. "Ey, comrade… you're going to have a lot of fun with this group. We get to do all of the good, actiony stuff, like collecting documents." He grinned, snickering a bit. "Hey, Baron! When's the new ship coming in?"

"Fuck, I'm right here." Baron held his antennae down because of Connat's unnecessary shouting, before rubbing the back of his head. "It'll be a few hours. Just stop being impatient for a goddamn second."

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, remember when Ace was oriented? Man, he's still as much as an asshole now as he was back then!" The table laughed, and Ace chuckled with him. The one odd Vortian at the table didn't seem insulted at all by that statement.

"Yeah, well… uh… at least I'm not a dirty demmy!" He pointed at Connat and drank a bit more shurka.

"Remember when democracy was abolished on Vort? Good times, huh?" Connat said, taking a piece of bread and shoving it into his mouth. While they 'insulted' each other in the most playful manner I could ever think of, I took a note at my surroundings.

The restaurant we were in was a UR-themed diner with the greatest soups this side of Karene Station; that's what Connat always said, anyway. They're not very different from any other soup I've tasted. One type of soup I absolutely cannot stand is beet soup, which Connat has a very strange fixation to. It tastes like pain and suffering to me, but sweet, sweet greatness to that guy. The restaurant was owned by a Vortian, and since this group of freelancers kept giving him business, we gave him the nickname of "Chef". The group was pretty fond of him.

Chef pushed the door connecting the kitchen to the rest of the restaurant, carrying some menus. He had a severe shortage of waiters, because he didn't exactly trust anyone else to handle money. His business practices work in a small setting, although if there were some business boom that were to magically happen, Chef would be entirely unprepared. He spoke in a very thick accent which I had no idea even existed, and for a Vortian he was quite bulky.

He smiled at us, getting ready to write our orders. "How you want food?"

Connat looked over to me. "Right, what do you guys want?"

"Oh, I'll have one of those pastries for me," Ace shouted out. Baron tossed the menu to Connat and pointed to what he wanted.

Connat's eyes widened. "Oooh, kiellar paste. Good choice." He scooted in his seat to face me. "How about you, man?"

"I'll have a scuptus filet." Okay, scuptus filets are the best thing to ever exist. It's like if all of the pleasures in your life were condensed into the flesh of that filet, and when you bit into it, it'd flow into you and just leaves you going "mmm". Why nobody else ordered one is beyond me.

Connat turned to Chef and spoke in a language the rest of us couldn't understand. Of course, Chef completely understood what he meant, writing the items down and nodding. Sometimes he'd comment on something, and they both laughed. The language flowed very well, although when it was spoken by Connat, it sounded more like he was slurring the words. Chef goes into the kitchen, disappearing to cook the meals.

Connat placed his hands behind his head proudly. "Vortian's a beautiful language, huh?"

I was taken aback by this. I always thought Vortian was so fractured that it was basically dead, but here Connat was, talking a dead language. "Wait… people still speak Vortian?"

"Well, yeah. They don't teach that to you on Astarte. Or Vort. Ehh… if the language keeps being slaughtered by the Empire, then it'll die out when we do."

Ace stroked his chin a little. "Wait, so how do you know Vortian, anyway?"

Connat chuckled, loosely dangling his arms over the back of the chair. "I spent most of my life in close proximity to the good old Vortian Republic. Man, those were the days. Even though they were a republic, they weren't part of the UR. That ended up being the end of them, you know? So, being a transit officer, you had to learn the language that most people were speaking, right?"

Ace smirked. "Oh, what's that? I thought you were in the military, Connat! Nope, you're some sort of screwed up fucking… traffic cop."

"I was working in the federal division of law enforcement. That's essentially military, although nobody wants to admit that the United Republics is actually in temporary martial law."

Baron sipped at his shurka, finally opening his mouth after a period of silence. "So what the hell kind of people go to the UR?"

"Oh, you know. Refugees, miners, traders… smugglers, pirates, freelancers. Take a long guess who I had to deny entry."

I finished my shurka and snickered slightly. "Yeah, man, refugees are dangerous. Gotta blast them out of the sky."

Connat slapped his knee and laughed. "Hah! That's a good one, comrade. But yeah, look at me now. I'm in Karene Station, drinking shurka with what I was told to deny, heh."

The food came out, and Chef placed them on the table. Connat said what was probably "Thank you" in Vortian, and then Chef went into the kitchen again to let us eat. I cut into the filet and took a bite. The food doesn't look the part, but it makes up for it in absolute bliss. I haven't had a scuptus filet in weeks.

I gnawed on the meat before swallowing. "So, Connat… what made you leave?"

He entirely ignored me. I wanted to ask again, but didn't want to push the wrong buttons, so I took another bite and let him eat his beet soup. Connat was laughing and telling jokes like nobody's business, and we chuckled along even if we didn't get it. He always used these elaborate set ups, with recurring characters such as "Ivan the Police Officer" and "Locksher and Sonwat". His humour was unique in a great way.

I chewed on my filet, slowly devouring it. Connat was very sensitive about his past, it seemed. This wasn't the first time a person was ignored for asking why he left the UR. Nobody can do anything but speculate. Ace once told me that he was kicked out for dishonourable conduct, but that doesn't explain Connat's overall nationalism about the UR, not to mention the fact that Ace knows Connat less than I do.

"…so then Locksher said, 'No, Sonwat, you idiot, it means somebody stole our tent!'" The group laughed and threw their heads back with each joke. At that point, I felt like making a joke of my own.

"Oh, hey, I've got a joke for you-"

Ace immediately interrupted me. "Oh god no, not your jokes. Literally everyone in a three-hundred light year radius gets offended by your jokes."

Connat looked over at Ace. "Hey, he was born on Astarte. Of course he'd be into gallows humour."

"Yeah, no, I'm not hearing it. The last time he told a joke, he made fun of Amaridian because of their terrible treatment to the indigenous people there."

I quirked my brow ridge. "So? It's funny because it's so terrible. It's so absurdly terrible that you just have to laugh at it. Look, it's hard to explain."

Ace glared at me. "Not very funny for the people involved, is it?"

Connat grinned, drinking the rest of his shurka. "Okay, he made an offensive joke once. We're freelancers, remember? We do the dirty work that nobody else has the guts to. Does it really matter to our benefactors whether or not Malos made fun of Amaridian in the big picture?"

Ace coughed. "Does anything we do matter in the big picture?"

"Exactly, a joke is nothing. So relax."

I just sat there, gulping. "So… no joke, then?"

Connat smirked. "Man, this entire conversation was a joke. Ace has always been a killjoy."

"The thing about killing joy is that it gets easier the more you do it."

"Yeah, that's pretty much your life story, huh?" Connat leaned back further in his chair and grinned.

Our discussions went through the night, and most of them I couldn't remember. Shurka messes your memories up, and at that point I hit the threshold of how much I could take before I got absolutely wasted. All tension from the group melted away, having seconds or thirds of the food they ordered. We filled the place up with noise despite only being a group of four people. All good things come to an end, however. As I sobered up a little to remember what was going on, we were already on our way out.

"Okay guys, that was really fun! I have to talk to Chef for a few seconds, and you guys should go without me. I'll pay the bill, no worries." He gave the three of us this big smile, and both Ace and I stumbled back to the quarters, with Baron being the only one sober enough to walk straight. We clung onto him the entire way, and he was stoic. If I had to bet, he was probably steaming in rage on the inside.

Baron pushed the door to our quarters open, pushing us off him. "Okay, you guys go right to sleep-"

Ace clung onto his shoulder again, grabbing a handful of shirt and using that to make sure he didn't fall on his ass. "Come on! Let's… let's play cards or something…."

He shook Ace off, and as expected, the Vortian plopped right on the ground. Baron gritted his teeth. "No games. I'm not letting you idiots do something you'll regret in the morning."

My drunken stupor made me enter Ace's room instead of my room. Baron turned me around and corrected me as soon as he saw that. I muttered something, but my memory eludes me on what it was. Baron's response was to throw me in my bed and close the door on me. I was wide awake and ready to take on the world for a total of one second before falling asleep. Not the greatest record in the Perseus Arm, I'm sure.

The next morning started off with a loud bang on the door to the quarters. The knocking was rapt and authoritative, and it wasn't a knock that any civilian would do. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard Connat address the person at the door as "Officer". I got out of my bed. I leaned against the wall and listened in.

"Right, here are the documents you wanted, Officer."

"Spasiba. Is everything in here?"

"As far as I can tell. There were a few Imperials in the factory, although they probably didn't take most of the documents."

"Right. Your payment will come to you shortly. How's Chef, by the way?"

"He's… feeling better."

The officer let out a deep grumble. "That's good to hear. Your payment for that will be wired shortly as well."

"Hey, why did you come to talk to me in person?"

"We don't exactly trust postal services to give sensitive Intel to us. We needed to directly get a hold of the documents."

"What's so important in some trade data, anyway?"

"That's classified."

"…yeah, okay. Well, have a good day, comrade. Pleasure doing business with you."

"I agree."

The door opens and slams shut, and Connat sighs. He finally knocks at my door. "Hey, wake up, man! Brand new day."

I waited a tiny bit before opening the door, so I don't seem like I woke up and got dressed a millisecond before seeing Connat. I yawned, opening the door slowly.

Connat grinned at me. "Did you have a good sleep?"

Now that he mentioned it, I did have a very bad headache. I was squinting and wincing at any sort of bright light, and I felt like I was going to vomit. My joints ached, and my breath smelled of alcohol. My eyes felt baggy, and I groaned in displeasure. "Why, did you?"

"Oh man, you don't even know how well I slept, comrade. I mean, shurka just knocks me out like that." He snapped his fingers.

"What, you don't get hangovers?"

"I take my alcohol well."

"Hey… if you don't mind me asking, what happened to Chef?"

Connat's smile dropped, and he crossed his arms. "He went on a paid vacation."

"Really? Huh."

"Yes, I talked to him to say farewell to him and all that. Why do you ask?"

"Well, uh… he's a pretty nice guy. Thought we'd go and get a drink together," I lied.

"Hah! Yeah, good luck with that… he only speaks Vortian fluently." Connat smiled again, relaxing a bit. "Hey, Ace has a mission that's coming up. He needs somebody to tag along with him. You in?"

"Depends. What's the mission?"

"Information retrieval. Again. This time, you're going to be somewhere more… crowded."

"Go on."

"It's a… seedy nightclub on the outskirts of the Zhukov system. It orbits Zhukov-C."

"Zhukov… that's Imperial territory."

"Which is why Ace needs another person with him. Just in case something goes awry, ey? Albeit the place is a bit more… open than most of the Empire."

"By how much?"

"Literally anyone can get in. The club's basically run by criminals itself. Not really any federal administration to speak of."

"Good. I'm in. I'm guessing I'll be briefed?"

"Nah, we'll just throw you in there with no instruction." He snickered. "No, but seriously, comrade. You'll be briefed."

"Great, I'll go talk to Ace about it." I retreated back into my room, getting my long coat on and concealing my rifle within. Connat placed his arm right across the doorway.

"Ah ah ah, comrade. You're not going to a nightclub dressed like that, are you?"

"Why, what's the problem?"

"Those green fatigues have got to go. You'll attract a lot of attention if you just go like that. The marketplace has some things you might need. I suggest going there."

"Fine, okay. Can you let me out now?" Connat steps to the side, and I walked out into the main room.

"Oh, and… take care of Ace, alright?"

"Connat, I thought you hated his guts."

"Oh man, you actually think that? No, man. We just practice some trash talk sometimes. Nothing personal."

"Oh… well, okay. I'll be in Ace's room if you need me."

"Right, I'll need to go somewhere myself. I'll see ya later, ey, comrade?"

"Take care."

"Thanks, you too." Just like that, Connat left the quarters. The only thing that was left to do is talk to Ace about this entire thing. I walked up to his door and rapped my fist against it loudly.

"Nnn… give me five more minutes."

"Connat told me you had a mission to do."

"Oh yeah… that thing… fuck, fine. Give me a moment." I waited at his door, pressing against the wall. The sound of things slamming on the ground resonated from the room, and a few profanities came from Ace's mouth. He opened up the door and grabbed my arm, dragging me inside. He looked at me and gave me a sly smile. "Sup."

"…sup? Did you seriously just- never mind. When are we going?"

"Well, it's… what time is it now?"

"Eight-o-clock. Perseus Standard Time."

"Yeah, we've got… five hours. Shuttle leaves at thirteen-hundred."

"How are we going to kill five hours?"

"We should head to the marketplace at… probably 12. Gives us an hour. That still leaves four hours, though."

"Why not 11?"

"…yeah, that actually makes more sense. Gives us time to browse, doesn't it?"

"Definitely. Hey, where's Baron? He would be up by now, wouldn't he?"

"He has breakfast at some sort of restaurant around here, and then plays some stupid card games with his friends that used to be in the military with him. He never hangs out here, really."

"So that means we're alone in here."

"…yeah, I guess that does. Why?"

I decided to tell Ace about what I heard from Connat. "Okay, so the person who took the documents came over here physically and talked to Connat. He also mentioned something about Chef."

"Oh yeah, that Chef guy. What about him? He makes good pastries."

"Here's the thing. The officer, who was obviously from the UR, asked about him. What's more, after Connat said that 'he was feeling better', the officer said that he would wire payment to Connat."

"…damn, that's fishy. What did Connat say about that?"

"I asked him about Chef and he said he was on paid leave."

"So, wait… you don't think…?"

"I think Chef screwed over the wrong people."

"Now that's just wasted talent. That chef guy was so good at cooking, too."

"I know. Whatever Connat did to him… well, let's just keep it bottled up for now. I wouldn't get on his bad side."

"Jeez, yeah. I sort of liked Connat, but I'm not so sure any more."

I look at the clock. "Now that we've got the terrible revelations out of the way… we still have about three hours to kill."

"Three hours. Wow. I can feel the time passing already."

"Is there anything we could possibly do to pass the time?"

"I have an extranet connection."

"…why didn't you say so sooner?"

I pulled up a chair to Ace's computer, and for the next three hours, we looked at assorted things on the vast extranet. We also played a variety of games. He had a complete stockpile of them, almost as if he were a collector. Most of them were shooters, but some were a bit more questionable. There were some games that had cover art with what was basically gibberish as a title, and bright backgrounds, along with characters that looked like they had glaucoma. Ace got flustered when I asked about them.

"O-oh, those are nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Huh. This is a whole lot of nothing."

"Y-yeah," Ace stuttered. Honestly, if I didn't know Ace was a freelancer already, I wouldn't have figured it out at all. That makes him a great freelancer. None of us really have the luxury of being entirely normal. Ace… well, he's young. That makes him the least messed-up. Makes him the least conspicuous, too.

As we drowned the time with reading the news, playing shooters and listening to a bit of music, we decided we should get going. Ace turned off the computer and sat up. "Well, that's it, then. We should probably, you know, head to the marketplace… get some inconspicuous clothes on us."

"That was pretty fun, I'm not going to lie."

"Yeah, well… I don't have those games for nothing, you know."

"How long have you been buying them, anyway?"

"Since I was a child. I mean, growing up in Amaridian territory gives some perks, you know?" Ace picked up one of his games and pointed to the Amaridian logo on it. "They basically publish the entire gaming industry in Perseus."

"No kidding. They have a monopoly on everything, don't they?"

"In those areas, yeah. If you ever get a job in Amaridian's sectors, you work for Amaridian. It's indirect on most occasions, but somewhere up the chain, it'll go through that company."

"Did you… like it there?"

He crosses his arms and gives off a goofy grin, nodding. "It's probably the freest place in Perseus. Every single planet had their own laws, their own customs and people. The higher economy is controlled by one company, sure… but hey, at least it's just the economy, right? Heheh."

"What about those rumours that Connat keeps talking about?"

"Oh man, those. Nobody I've ever talked to has experienced something like that, and I'm pretty sure that's the UR piling on the propaganda. They're not as… free as you might think."

"But it's a coalition of republics, isn't it? Those are democratic."

Ace opened the door to the main room, walking out. "The bare minimum of being in the UR is simply claiming that you're a republic. There's no enforcement. It's no better than the Empire."

I grumbled slightly, closing Ace's door behind me and moving up beside him. "You mean the same Empire that has made democracy illegal?"

"At least they're honest about being tyrants." He opened the door to the rest of Karene Station, quickly turning into the crowd. I tried to move as close to him as possible to avoid losing him in the swarm of patrons. The door to our quarters closed on its own, much to my relief. It always was on the heavy side. It was hard to trail behind him, and when I was finally beside him, he took his arm and wrapped it around mine.

"Hey, what are you-"

"Just be glad I'm not grabbing for your hands this time around."

"…but-" He dragged me along, trying to find his way in the mob. People carrying boxes and luggage bumped into me, and after a while I was sort of glad Ace took the initiative to keep us together. It took us a long while to get to the marketplace, and it was packed. Salesmen were shouting at the top of their lungs, asking people to buy their things. Jackboot polishers, cybernetic enhancements, ammunition, clothing- oh, right.

Ace looked at the man shouting about his clothing deals, and he pulled me over there.

The man looked over at us, and his eyes instantly gravitated to the arm lock Ace and I were engaging in. "…eh, Two-for-One couple deal! Quality clothing for the distinguished gentlemen," he shouted. Couple. Oh jeez.

Ace's cheeks filled with blue quite quickly. "Uh… well, we're-"

I shoved him aside and blurted out, "Yes. Yes, we're a couple. What kind of clothing do you sell?" That only made Ace more embarrassed, but hey, he would thank me later after we got a sweet deal.

The salesman chuckled. "Oh, we've got everything! Trench coats, suits, and all sorts of formal but practical attire! Just walk into the store and my associate will be with you!"

We found a pathway through the crowd to squeeze along, the numerous people around the salesman not moving an inch. We entered the store, and Ace took his arm off mine. He looked at me, embarrassed. "You… didn't have to say-"

"Welcome to Papa's Suit Shop! My name is Ezekiel, but you can call me 'Eze'," the store employee interrupted rudely.

I flinched a little, before chuckling nervously. "Oh, hey… we were just-"

"You're the couple, right?"

"…there was a two-for-one deal?"

The employee walks over to an aisle, which had grey and colourless clothing. It looked like it was a deep black before, but age had taken a toll on the dyes. "This clothing has the couple deal."

"Right, we'll take a trench coat and business suit."

"Full business suit?"

I looked over to Ace. He slowly nodded his head, his face entirely tinted a blue-gray colour. I think I broke his embarrassment threshold. I looked to the store employee and replied, "Yeah, full business suit."

"Is your boyfriend alright?"

"…yes, he's fine. He's just shy around people."

"Right… okay, so just go into the machine in the dressing room and purchase the clothes. You might need to take out all of the things in your pockets before you do that, unless you want to blow up the entire station."

"I didn't know clothing stores had the capacity to do that."

"The more you know."

I grabbed Ace's hand and dragged him along into the dressing room, and the store employee handed me a coupon before I got too far. A black room was entirely dedicated for the machine, and there were ten rooms in total. I walked into one with Ace. When we closed the door, an unsettling silence crept on us.

"Malos… this deal better be worth it."

"Those suits probably cost at least a grand. Two-for-One is a pretty big deal when it comes to this."

"Yeah… but still. You should warn me when we're going to be posing as a couple."

"You just have to roll with the punches sometimes."

"Let's just get these clothes on, alright?"

"You first."

The Vortian shook his head, taking his concealed firearm out of his jacket and then went to the console at the machine. He selected the attire. "Who's buying?"

"I am." I held out my credit chip, Ace taking the hint and grabbing it. He put it into the machine, scanned the coupon in, and selected the clothing we chose out.

"Are you sure you don't want, I don't know, something more casual?"

"Might as well look good for this."

"Dude, you realize we're going to a nightclub, right? You could appear in full latex and nobody would care."

"It's not like we're just going to throw the clothes in the trash as soon as we leave, Ace. We can keep these with us. Besides, it's a good investment. If we need to look like a law-abiding citizen instead of a freelancer, we could always use something a bit more formal."

"Eh… okay. It's your money, anyway." He selected 'buy'. He also selected the confirmation of whether we were sure we wanted the clothing.

"Thank you for your business," the machine cheerily blurted. Ace snickered slightly at how over-the-top the voice was. He quickly stepped inside, watching as the machine scanned him.

He smiled at me, his eyes wandering to the circling machinery above him. "I probably should've signed some life insurance before stepping in here."

"Relax, you'll be fine. Malfunctions only happen about ninety percent of the time."

"You're not helpin-" The door closed on him, and the sound of whirring and the cutting of fabric came from inside. After about five minutes, the door reopened, with Ace fully clothed in the outfit we picked out. It was perfectly sized for him, and he grinned.

I stared at him for a few seconds, my eyes widening in surprise. "That's… really nice."

He inspects his outfit. "Wow, yeah. This outfit looks super good."

I point to his rifle. "There's your gun. Now it's my turn."

"Yep. I bought two copies. Not sure how that works."

"I just step inside right after you."

"Right, okay. Go ahead." So I did, stepping inside the clothing cylinder. Tubing covered the smooth steel walls, and the ceiling… well, there wasn't one, but only extendable arms. The tubing started shifting, with a few red arms coming down and scanning my body. The door closed right on me.

"Subject is Irken. Preparing plantigrade variant." Two handles from the sides sprouted up, as well as two holes in the ground. "Please anchor yourself in the apparatus." I did as the droning automated voice said, placing my boots into the holes and grabbing onto the handles. "Standby." It took a few minutes for the machine to clothe me, and I will spare you pretty much all of the details how. I doubt anyone wants to know about that. When the door opened, I was dressed in the same outfit as Ace. I adjusted my tie and coughed.

I spread my arms out and studied my clothing carefully. "Well… there we are."

"Yeah…" Ace tucked his rifle into his own trench coat, and I did the same.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

"Agreed."

As we walked out of the dressing room, other people stared at us with a perplexed look on their face. I don't know what their big deal was, but we got out of that store faster than you could say "leg it". We weren't forced to hold onto each other this time, as most of the shopping rush had cleared out. It was about twelve-thirty, and the shuttle was about to leave for the nightclub, so naturally we ran over to that side of the station.

Karene Station was large. It housed about eighty million people in an area of 100,000 kilometres. Tram services were needed to even get from side to side. Ace made sure our shuttle was very close to our location so we didn't have to hassle with that. The area around our quarters was like its own neighbourhood, and most people never see all of it in their lifetime.

Once we got to the shuttle station, we leaned against the wall and waited. Ace chuckled, adjusting his suit slightly. "We probably should've got up later."

"Yeah, it feels like the entire day's passed."

"We still have to go to that nightclub, too."

"Yeah…"

Before my thoughts could flee me, I took out my journal and started writing. Ace instantly took an interest to this. "Ooo, you write?"

"Yeah, sometimes I write when I'm bored. I'm thinking of starting a memoir."

"Sweet! How much did you get down?"

"My trip to Zyklon and that's about it. I'm actually writing down what happened today."

"So… a memoir? To who?"

"That's what I have to figure out myself. Maybe it's to myself. You know, get my thoughts on paper. Maybe this memoir'll be some sort of messed-up heirloom."

"You could sell it."

"Pff, please. You know people don't buy the type of rubbish I'm writing. People prefer… you know, happy novels. Romance novels. That sort of thing."

"Hey, romance novel! That's a great idea. Quick, hook up with a chick or something."

"You make it sound easy."

"Yeah, well… I make a lot of things sound easy."

"I'm sure you do."

Eventually, the shuttle got to us. The doors opened and the white, sterile interior revealed itself. The shuttle was packed, but we still found a row of two seats. Ace took the window seat first, and I had to stare out into the walkway. Many of the people in the shuttle were burly, grizzled guys with several scars on their face, with a few women here and there that are just as scarred and muscled as the men. The shuttle door closed, and I continued writing in my journal during the journey.

Shuttles take a very long time to reach their destination. They have very limited Pyhene drives, mostly because it's simply safer to have a weak engine as opposed to something that would kill everyone within an astronomical unit of it if it were to be damaged. I just wrote an entire entry in my journal, to give you a sense of how slow these things are. Most other ships take minutes to reach their destination, while shuttles take hours. If you want to go any further than Perseus, good luck. That's essentially unheard of.

Soon, we'll be docking and I'll be able to get off. We're getting very close to our destination, so I'm going to stop writing for now. Hopefully, we'll get to the nightclub soon and I'll write a bit more about our trip there when we're done this whole information retrieval thing.

Oh, and Ace says hi.


	3. Zezzer Nightclub

A/N: Remember when I said that later chapters were going to have violence in them? This is where things get heavy. If you absolutely cannot handle graphic violence, then I suggest you stop reading here because it's only going to get worse from this chapter onward. If you just get a little or moderately disturbed by violence, then that's fine. The violence in this story is supposed to disturb you.

Chapter 3

Zezzer Nightclub

"Now arriving at Zezzer Nightclub. Thank you for waiting." The shuttle doors finally opened. About time. I never liked how long shuttles took to get to where they were going. We got out of those uncomfortable seats eagerly, and I shook my leg to get some blood into it. They should at least have some seats that let some circulation in so that your foot doesn't fall asleep, right? Yeah, well nobody's thought of inventing that yet.

The nightclub was in a dome of sorts, with the void of space above us, the sparkling and twinkling from stars very apparent. The ground of the station was large and solid, and it dropped off a few metres after the dome cut off. Neon lights flickered in and out, and the bright red haze from the nightclub penetrated every nook and cranny in the place. The sun in the system blended in with the rest of the stars. Almost all of the illumination came from the station itself.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when we got out of the shuttle. Every customer seemed like they'd be the type that went to nightclubs; they were grizzly, muscled men just wanting to down a bunch of alcohol. One group particularly caught my eye and I glanced at them for the longest time. They were all wearing coats that went up to their shins and had this very strange limp in their walk; they stepped forward with one foot quite a bit further than the other. This didn't concern me too much. Who am I to judge other people's decisions, right?

Ace quirked an eyebrow at me. "Lots of… unique faces, huh?"

I moved close to Ace. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were criminals," I whispered to him, trying to make sure none of these guys heard us. He nodded and followed along.

"I see what you mean. How about… we talk somewhere more private?" The other freelancer pointed to a secluded crevasse and made his way over to it. He looked around to see if anyone was watching us or listening in before speaking again. "Right… we need to get to the computers at the top of the nightclub."

"Can't we just… you know, pick up their wifi? We're close enough."

"As if they would broadcast sensitive information out on the extranet like that. If anything, it's going to be localized to a series of computers."

"You know how to access those files, right?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. I'm an absolute expert at computers."

I squinted one eye, letting my lower jaw jut out. "So what do you need me for?"

"I just needed you as an extra gun. I could've gone myself, you know."

"So you're throwing me out as a bullet shield, essentially."

"A shooting bullet shield. There's the difference."

"Right, I still get shot at. Got it."

"Think about it like this. We do everything right, you have to do pretty much nothing. You get paid and that'll be the end of it. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, well… I can't argue with that deal, can I?"

Ace pointed at me, smirking. "Now you're getting it! This'll be quick. Maybe we'll have to knock out a few guys, but I have a feeling this'll be a relatively mundane job."

I agreed with him, peering out into the street. "So what's the game plan? Is there a side entrance anywhere?"

"Not that I know of. We should sneak through the crowds in the nightclub to get upstairs. If a guard sees us, take them out quietly."

"How?"

"I don't know, choke the guy or something. Not too much, though. They'll die if you do it too much."

"…could you maybe teach me how to properly do that?"

"Uh… look, it's hard to explain. Just sort of… wrap your arms around the guy's neck. You need to get them off guard, or they'll turn around before you can do it."

"…and what happens then?"

"I… well, I don't know. Just don't hurt the guy too much, alright?"

"If you insist."

Ace walked back out into the dock area again and I followed close, unbuttoning my coat to access my firearm. A large line crowded the area. People were being let in slowly but surely. We quickly moved to the end of the line, acting as natural as we possibly could. The same group of coat-wearing men were gathered around right at the end, whispering to each other. I couldn't make out any of what they were saying.

Okay, we did butt in line in front of those guys, but as a freelancer you need to act like a terrible person sometimes. At least it was just a group of what looked like typical thugs and not anybody that would be an upstanding citizen. Why would you need a coat like that? Do they need to conceal a shotgun or what? What would they be doing here anyway? Drinking? Dancing? They can't dance because their coattails will just get stuck at the bottom of their boots and they'll-

The line halted and I looked forward. The red belt was the only thing coming between us and getting into that nightclub. The bouncer didn't seem all too phased by us. He probably thought we were cute and weak, and not people who would steal data from a possibly criminal organization. Exactly as planned. The bouncer inspected us visually before giving us the okay to go in. The belt was clicked away and we stepped inside without a hitch. The crowd was enormous, the entrance so packed that you could barely see in front of you.

The dance floor itself was absolutely hectic. Loud music blasted through the speakers, with both men and women wearing terrible outfits. One group was at the bar, taking turns chugging beer, while a few others were dancing and screaming at the top of their lungs. They were enjoying themselves, and while their chaotic behaviour may not be my cup of tea, at least they weren't paying attention to us. Ace walked over to the bar and sat at a stool.

"One shot of caffeine, please," Ace ordered, looking up at me.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, I focus better when I have caffeine. Might as well order some, right?"

"Pure caffeine? Are you crazy, they probably don't even-" The bartender slammed the shot glass full of caffeine down on the table, and Ace downed it.

"…so what was that about them not selling it?"

"Never mind."

"Hey, do you want to do something before we go upstairs?"

"I'd rather get this entire ordeal over with."

He sighed. "Killjoy. Well, suit yourself." Ace stood up, paid the bartender, and wandered into the crowd while I tagged along. We bumped into a few people, and they gave us a slight glance before going back to what they were doing. Nobody suspected a thing. We found the entrance to upstairs quite quickly, since it was shoddily concealed in the scenery. "Psst. There's the door."

We casually made our way to the door, the heels of our jackboots clacking on the concrete floor. As we observed the crowd, we noticed that the majority of them were too entranced in the booming music and nobody was watching the door. We swung the door open quietly when the bass dropped and the volume was at its loudest, slipping into the brightly-lit staircase. The walls, railing, and stairs were all made of the same material that covered the floor. The colourful ambiance of the dance area was followed up with bland grey.

The stairs were steep and they went up to our thighs with each step. Walking up the stairs was like climbing a mountain. It was as if the staircase was made for giants, and it was an absolute feat to get to an island a floor up. We rested for a bit before trekking on, trying our best to overcome this monster. Finally, after about six flights, we saw the top. There were two guards there, and they were discussing assorted things with each other. Great, just what we needed. An actual threat.

I took a good look at them. They appeared almost exactly like the soldiers that we saw on Zyklon, with the exception of their faces and voice of course. One of them seemed happy and enthusiastic, while one constantly bashed the logical fallacies that the other one brought up and was much more cynical. I hid behind the concrete railing and eavesdropped a bit. Ace looked at me and narrowed his eyelids, but followed along. When the Vortian wanted to talk, I shushed him.

The soldiers laughed. "You know, why does this place need us, anyway? The party's down there."

"I know, right? All we're guarding is some lousy computers. What's so important on those computers that the person running the nightclub needs to hire a group of Astarteans? Just bury the servers underground or something."

"Maybe it's some sort of bait for whatever sorry assholes want to get to that data."

"Nah, that's too smart for them."

"Hey… so, uh, do you want to go out for a drink later? You know, as a bro thing."

"Yeah, I could definitely go for some booze right about now. We've been standing here for hours."

Ace decided he's had enough, hugging the railing wall. "Hey. Enough getting to know these assholes. Let's take them out," he said in a hushed and quiet tone.

I obliged, following behind Ace and leaning against the wall. The guards only had a few comments about maybe seeing a rat down the stairs, and then they engaged in more small talk. 'Astarteans'. I was one of the lucky ones who actually got off Astarte and into society. How did these guys get off that rock, let alone become part of the Irken military? This shed some light on what was going on when we went to Zyklon, too. Before we could think too much about it, we jumped out and assaulted the guards.

Ace opted for a choke, wrapping his arms tightly around the poor guard's neck and squeezing as hard as he could. The guard struggled intensely under his grasp, kicking and trying to scream before submitting and losing consciousness. His eyes were bloodshot when he went down, and he hit the concrete ground with his head fairly hard. If he got up, he'd have a massive headache and probably a concussion.

Of course, I wasn't quite as good at knocking people out as Ace, but I tried anyway. The guard couldn't turn around enough to point his gun at me because while Ace choked the other guy out, I simultaneously grabbed the other guy's head and smashed it against the railing. An audible crack echoed in the solid grey walls of the staircase, and the sharp corner of the concrete cut open his forehead. Translucent-pink blood came careening out of the deep wound, and the guard screamed in primal agony.

He stumbled back, slamming himself into the back wall and slipping on the vital fluid, his rear hitting the ground and his back against the wall. The screaming continued, resonating painfully and constantly. The guard held onto his trickling head, and as I stood there in shock, Ace decided to bring matters into his own hands. He picked the guard up, and in a show of mercy, turned him around and did as he did with the other fighter. The injured Irken succumbed smoothly, Ace's forearm drenched in the wound's gore. The Vortian threw him on the ground, and the soldier made a loud thump. As I looked on at what I had done, I panted heavily, rubbing my face with my discoloured glove.

Ace sighed feebly, his face wet with sweat and his shoulders limp. He glowered subtly. "Why did you do that?"

I panted for air, taxed by the sheer effort my 'knockout' took. "…do what?"

Ace glared at me, his eyes unblinking. "You fucking slammed his head into sharp concrete. That hurts people, Malos."

"You were choking him out-"

"That guy's going to get up unharmed because I induced consciousness without destroying his fucking head in the process!" Ace grit his teeth at me and narrowed his eyelids. "Oh, but the other freelancer has to give the guy a concussion and a head wound that probably will give him a scar later in life!"

My forehead rumpled, and I squinted at him. "Maybe if you taught me how to do that fancy choke thing properly, I wouldn't have to resort to knocking him out like that."

"You didn't even try. You could've done if it you tried. But no, you decided to endanger a fucking life when you didn't have to."

"He should be glad he didn't get shot."

"Yeah, because minimizing injury takes so much effort that you might as well shoot the asshole. Man, you have all your priorities straight!"

I clenched my hand into a fist. "I swear to god, Ace, if you don't shut your mouth about this right now…"

"Why? What are you going to do? Kill me?"

It took me all my willpower not to injure him at that point, but I took a deep breath and calmed down. "No, but whoever discovers that their friends aren't responding to their radios sure will. Let's drop this and get the information. Alright?"

"Why should I drop it? I don't think I've hammered into your head enough how goddamn wrong that shit is."

"Listen. People make mistakes, and frankly we're not here for him. I won't do it again, okay? Jeez."

Ace inhaled before stopping and considering what I said. After a long silence, he finally replied. "…okay, fine. If you screw up another person, though, I'm not freelancing with you ever again."

"Works for me."

He started to clean the blood off of his scalp and gave me this horrible scowl the entire time, squeezing out the soaked-up pink onto the floor. My glove had dried off, and everything that was on it had crusted over. I stood there, trying to keep myself calm. You know what makes this situation worse? I felt genuinely terrible about not knocking a guy out properly. I should've thought about what I was doing before I decided to go and injure the guy.

He put the rag back in his pocket and went over to the door. "Let's get this goddamn information and get out of here."

"How fast can you do it?"

"…we'll have to see."

"Fast enough to get out of here before their friends come?"

"Those 'friends' are why I brought you here," Ace stated nonchalantly, jiggling the doorknob in front of him. Locked. The other freelancer took his gun out and shot at the lock, his expression sober. He slammed his foot into the door several times before it finally came loose, hitting the other end of the pivot with a loud bang. He put his gun away and walked in slowly. The room was empty, thank Irk.

At one side of the room, there was a small personal computer connected to at least five servers. The entire system looked menacing and I doubt any of it wasn't overkill. Ace walked up to the computer and sat down on a nearby chair. I leaned near the entrance. He scoffed, putting in a data stick. "The security on this computer is horseshit. The servers are entirely open. Not even pass-worded or anything. Here, give me some cover while I transfer the files."

"I'm on it." I took the charging handle of my gun and racked it back, checking to see if there was a round in there. There wasn't, so I let the charging handle go and loaded one from the magazine in. I took more deep breaths to calm myself down. Ace and I had resolved the issue, but I still felt angry. It was a strange combination of self-loathing and anger directed at the guards. Looking back at it, I realize that I wasn't angry because I injured someone. I was angry because _I_ screwed up.

I inhaled deeply and tuned out past events. Contrary to popular belief, you don't operate a gun well when you're angry. You need to be calm to steady your shot. Hopefully I wouldn't have to shoot anyone today, although I already maimed someone during this mission and I didn't exactly want to repeat that experience. I don't think I've ever harmed someone that badly in my life, and it upset me more than it should for a freelancer. Freelancers always had certain mores, and one of those was not to be upset when you hurt someone under any circumstance.

"Holy fuck, this is terabytes worth of information. Who in Perseus could possibly need all this shit?"

"Just get it transferred."

"I'm trying, you dick. It's taking a long time." Ace was impatiently tapping his fingers against the desk, gulping and looking at the door every so often. "Come on, come on…"

"Hey, can we look at the files? See what all this is?"

"Why would we do that? We're freelancers. Freelancers don't peep at other people's property." The progress bar was at fifty percent. "Besides, all of this is encrypted. Even if we wanted to, we couldn't look in."

"Aren't you an 'expert at computers'?"

"This algorithm is only reserved for very, very, _very_ important documents. Only the most skilled crackers in the world can get into it."

"And?"

Ace chuckles half-heartedly. "You give me too much credit."

I checked the staircase, surveying to see if anyone was coming up. No sound whatsoever. "I think we might be safe."

"Yeah. If anybody was going to run in here, they probably would've done it by now."

A few quiet minutes later and Ace was finally done with the transfer. He took out the data stick from the computer and shoved it back into his pocket. "Done. Let's get out of here."

"How big is that data stick, anyway?"

"About twenty terabytes."

"And what size was that information?"

"Fifteen." My eyes widened in shock. "Yeah, I know. It's insane."

"Who needs that much information?"

He paused, staring at me. "That's what I said. Come on, let's go." I complied, following Ace down the staircase. We had to physically jump in order to get down the stairs and it'd be absolute hell for anyone to fall off of them. As we descended, the air grew hazy and thick, a dark tint overtaking the staircase's lighting. Ace coughed slightly and I took a brief whiff. I instantly recognized the smell. "Is that smoke?"

"…aw shit." Ace's jaw dropped, and like an absolute idiot, he kept moving toward the smoke. He only realized how utterly idiotic his idea was when he started hacking and coughing, keeling over and holding onto his stomach. "There's… oh gods, there's screaming down there."

"What the fuck is going on? How are we going to get out?!"

His attack of coughing probably caused more idiocy, as he descended another stair. "I-It's just smoke… we can take the stairs…"

I placed my hand roughly on Ace's shoulder to stop him. "No… screw that, we need to go upstairs…" For Ace's own good, I picked him up and vaulted myself onto one step at a time. The Vortian's smoke tolerance only went so far, and he inhaled so much smoke that he was about to go unconscious. We hurried to the top and I dropped Ace lightly onto the floor in the computer room. He gasped for air roughly. The abrasive particles of ash also got to me, and I hacked and hacked until they were all out.

Ace coughed up the smoke, holding onto his chest. "Ohh shiiit…"

"Goddamn…" I wheezed roughly. "That was a bad idea…"

"Open a window or something…"

Ace gave me an epiphany. "…we can escape through there."

"Oh…" He looked at me and grinned. "I can't really stand up all too well."

The crackling and whoosh of fire was growing louder, with hundreds of nightclub goers shouting at the top of their lungs, begging to be let out. The scent of charred flesh wafted itself through the air and the screaming slowly smouldered into a low whimper. Eventually, the screaming stopped, the smell of sickly-sweet charcoal only becoming more overwhelming. The pungency of the smoke clung to my antennae, and I could almost taste the scorching cadavers.

I attempted to open a nearby window with normal means, trying my hands at unlocking it. When that didn't work, I grabbed a chair and started smashing the glass in until it broke. I hoisted Ace up, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Come on, we can make it…" I only got a groan of pain in response.

As we climbed out, we could see tens of people in the dock area, throwing firebombs into the nightclub windows. The wavy steel of the roof gave us a bit of footing, but if we slipped, there would be no way we would be able to save ourselves from certain death. The Vortian looked out into the crowd. "Oh shit… the Empire's here."

Now these were the classic Empire goons that I was familiar with. Their uniform was an assortment of purple and red colours, their armour round and bulbous. They had Irken-made weapons and wore Imperial jackboots. There was no plausible deniability in this operation at all. "No fucking way."

Ace pointed to the doors. They had steel bars wedged into them. "See that? I… I don't think we were supposed to survive this…" Some of the soldiers were wearing parted trench coats, a uniform underneath. They were the same people that got off the shuttle. So many questions flashed through my mind at that point. What if they were secret police? What if they realized what was going on in the Zhukov system, and decided to call the cavalry? What if… I had done something to stop it?

I sighed, watching the fire engulf the entire building, the glorified pile of kindling diminishing into a black dust. The very top of the building fell to the side, and the soldiers underneath barely dodged it when it toppled. The orange flicker was right up to the roof, and we were standing on the last surviving structure of this place. I looked for something to immediately drop down, and I found a pipe leading to the ground. I helped Ace grab onto it. "Okay, slide down this pipe and I'll meet you down there. Okay?"

"Yeah… I've got it." He obeyed my instruction, stumbling when he hit the ground and then regaining his footing. He made way for my arrival as the pipe started to bend with heat. When I hit the ground, I used the pole to kill my motion, which caused the pipe to rend and crash down into the ground. The gloves on my suit were warm and pliable for the longest time afterward. I tried not to poke at them too much.

"I'm going to get Baron on the line, alright?" Ace bowed his head and held his face with his hand while I took out my radio and called Baron. "Baron… get us out of here… no, I'm fine, we just… ugh, we'll talk about it later. Right now, you need to get here ASAP." Baron was, looking back at it now, rudely interrupted by my closing of the radio, and I stored the radio for later. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"We'll probably be dead before he gets here…" He leaned against the wall, resting his eyes lightly.

"No need to be pessimistic, Ace."

"I have good reason to be pessimistic about this. Has anything about this mission gone right?" He had a point.

"The worst is over. We'll get you home safe. You can count on that."

"Yeah, yeah…" He stared down at the ground, twiddling his fingers.

"…you alright?"

"I'm fine." Ace's eyes were glazed over, and he exhaled softly. I knew how he felt. Nothing could prepare a person for something like this.

The burnt remains of the roof began spitting down, molten droplets hitting the ground. It was only until Ace got a bit on his hand that we ran out from under there. He tried to stifle a shout of pain and opted to let out a tiny whimper instead. I winced, about to panic. "Oh fuck, your hand…!"

"Ow, fuck fuck fuck…!" He ripped the molten steel off of his skin and tore off a good portion of the skin with it. "Aaaaagh!"

I was about to scream out, but I shut my mouth tight to prevent that. "…okay, okay, calm down. We'll get that bandaged."

"You guys fucking better…!" He held his injury, the back of his hand completely blue and dripping. "Fuuuck…" At that point, I could've sworn a tear flew down Ace's cheek. My face turned pale when I got a glimpse of his injury.

I wanted to say something to make him feel better, but I was entirely speechless. This was really the worst situation Ace and I have ever been in and our fortune stopped being absolutely crushed by outside forces when Baron got here in one piece. He brought new equipment, thank Irk for that. The new shuttle was streamlined, with glossy, black and red paint covering the exterior. Under the wings were sets of bombs and missiles. I don't think it was safe to call that ship a shuttle any more after all the proliferation it went through.

The dim flare of the fire's remnants radiated out of the entire bubble, and the Imperial soldiers out there opened fire on the ship, the bullets dinking away because of the station's covering. Ace shakily took his breath mask out of his pocket and strapped it on tight. My PAK conveniently came with a breath mask, which extended out and attached itself onto my face. A thin tube connected to an oxygen supply built into the PAK, while Ace's had a small canister built in for limited operations.

When we were protected, and our clothing sealed around our body, Baron blasted a hole right through the dome. A loud boom reverberated all across the station as the void sucked out all of the air from the life support system. We held onto a pole as hard as we could while soldiers flew out into the vacuum of space with a thunderous roar. The rest of those goons were holding on for their lives as tight as they could, only letting go when their organs collapsed.

Baron fired another rocket to loosen them up a little, which detonated right in the middle of the remaining crowd. Most of them were diminished to nothing more than a cloud of mist, but some others weren't so lucky. I was sincerely hoping the vacuum would take care of the mangled corpses of those soldiers, but the artificial gravity overcame the suction. Disfigured carcasses and contorted limbs were scattered all over the street, some of them moving seconds after they were eviscerated.

When the air in the station was no more, we slowly walked over to the ship in shock. The sheer destruction was enormous. Splotches of pink and desecrated bodies were the only things left in this desolate and fissured space station that ever signified that anything had ever arrived here. There was no life on Zezzer any more. There was only the grotesqueness of the dead.

We had had absolutely enough of this place, and quite frankly being even close to the nightclub would make us even dizzier than we already were, so we climbed up the ramp to the ship and buckled ourselves in. Ace settled in his seat next to me, his lip quivering. The back of his hand was leaking and small blue puddles covered the cabin floor. It pained me to see him like this.

Baron turned on the intercom. "…right, you guys have the information?"

Ace could barely speak, clenching onto his wounded hand. His speech was reduced to a quiet whine. I had to speak for him. "Yeah, we have it."

"Good. We'll talk about what the hell happened when we get back to Karene." The door closed and the ramp retracted into the ship. A wrap-around window covered the cabin walls and gave us a front row view of the scene.

"Hey, Baron… could you tint the back windows?" The windows in the cabin went opaque, and as the ship rumbled, Ace placed his head into his uninjured palm. I wrapped an arm around him, trying to comfort him. "Hey… it's over, Ace. We can go home now."

I really hate to use the word 'cuddle' when I write about myself, but that's essentially what Ace and I did for pretty much the entire trip. The only comfort we could find at the moment was in each other. Ace started sobbing about halfway through the trip, and I had to reassure him constantly of the fact that everything would be fine and that there was nothing to worry about.

Baron threw some gauze into the cabin and I bandaged Ace's hand up. That fixed the problem physically; emotionally, however, nothing changed. He was still dead quiet, and he broke into crying fits often. Poor guy. I just wish you could make someone feel better just like that, no tricky wording or anything, like putting a bandage on. Maybe I should invent that in the future. An "emotion bandage", apply to the person's brain and they'll instantly be happy! Oh, wait, the Empire already did that. Silly me, forgetting the indoctrination those guys go through.

I only stopped my care for Ace to address my own needs because I literally felt sick from that experience. My stomach was entirely unsettled. I was nauseous, weak, and felt my head burning up. Even when I thought I had gotten over it, the sheer thought of what happened out there made me vomit. The sick bags were used up at an alarming rate, and when I wasn't throwing up, I was using rags to clean up the vomit. My eyes were unfocused, and I was simply staring into space for most of the shuttle ride afterward. It took me sheer determination to pick up this memoir and write in it after I had calmed down.

The vomiting still hasn't stopped even when I got back to Karene Station. My head is scorching to the touch right now. Baron keeps telling me that it'll pass, and I'll feel better in the morning. I really, really hope he's right. I wouldn't want to get sick on the job, even after what happened at Zezzer. If it's any consolation, Connat says that Ace isn't sobbing any more, and his wound is scabbing over nicely, even though it's probably going to scar. He'll get used to it, I'm sure.

On that note, I'm going to stop writing and get some shuteye. Maybe I'll pick this up again, maybe not. Oh, who am I kidding, I'll always come back to my journal. I'll write more when I can.


	4. Rest

Chapter 4: Rest

Connat tapped his knuckles swiftly against the door before letting himself in, carrying a tray of soup and drink. I was surprised to look and see that it wasn't beet soup. I'd probably want to die if Connat tried to pull that stunt on me. The smell of the nightclub still clung to my antennae, the acrid charcoal prevalent in every sense I had. The last thing I wanted was something to eat. My appetite hasn't come back at all since last night. He placed the tray right next to me. "Here you go, comrade. Some soup, on the house."

"Ugh… I'm not hungry."

"Well, that dish is there for you when you are." He placed a hand on my head, feeling for a fever. "Ey, you're burning up."

"I know."

"Damn, what happened at the nightclub? Ace still isn't coughing anything up about it. Only thing he's coughing up is dust, really."

"The… the Empire burned it down. Didn't Baron tell you?"

"Nah, he's too busy taking care of Ace to tell me anything."

"How's he doing?"

"Temporary shellshock. Nothing a bit of rest won't fix… eh, right, comrade?"

"What about… our finances? Don't we need to… you know, keep a steady flow of missions going?"

"You're worried about that? Relax, relax. It's not that much of a rush. Besides, that last mission paid a lot. We'll be fine, no worries."

"Oh… hey, do you know who came to pick it up? We should… eugh, thank them."

"They kept their mouth shut about who they were. Nobody comes to pick up files in person."

"…nobody?"

"Virtually nobody. Sometimes a bunch of assholes decide to throw discreetness out the window and actively seek us out."

"Like… Zyklon?"

"Yeah, something like that. The UR is really uptight about how they get documents and such. They never want to trust postal services ever. They're somewhat boring. Get some adventure in your life when you can, know what I mean?"

I grumbled, gulping down a spoonful of soup. The lingering smell mixed in with the soup, and I shuddered. "This tastes terrible."

"Maybe you should take a shower or something. Get that shit out of your antennae, you know?"

"I'll do that when I damn feel like it."

"Your call."

Connat sat next to me, occasionally feeling if my fever went down. I slurped down the soup slowly. The taste was absolutely excruciating. I didn't even have an appetite, but I needed to get my strength back so I could stand up. The Irken next to me had a sombre expression on his face, a sheer contrast to the grin he always had. I noticed this and spoke up about it. "I'm… am I depressing you?"

"Oh, no. I'm just… I'm worried, you know what I mean?"

"It's not like you to care about other people."

"…where the hell did you get that idea, Malos?" He glared at me. "It's not like I brought you back from Astarte because I had to. Are you saying that I don't care about you?"

"I'm sure Chef felt that care so much it killed him."

"…what? I already told you, he-"

"I know what you did. You killed him, didn't you?"

"What? No! No, I didn't kill him! I can't believe you genuinely think that I'd just kill that guy in cold blood."

"Then what happened to him? Why the fuck did he disappear? Better question, why did some UR officer say yesterday that you'd be wired payment for making him 'feel better'?"

"…fine, I guess I better tell you what happened." He moved closer to me, sighing slightly and calming down. "I arrested him on charges of crimes against sentient life."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Back during OID2, he killed hundreds of Irken civilians and buried them in a mass grave. Of course, the Perseus Rights Commission wasn't pleased by that. They hired a freelancer to arrest him for a fair trial. That freelancer was me."

"Oh." I looked down at my toes, sighing. "Sorry."

"It's okay, comrade. I could see how you'd think I did something like that."

"So… what did 'he's feeling better' mean?"

"I actually meant that. See, he resisted arrest quite a bit and I was forced to… beat him up so much that he didn't resist. Safe to say, I won that fight."

"…fuck."

"Haha, it did seem suspicious now that I think about it." He rubbed his head against the back of his head, an embarrassed grin on his face. It quickly dropped when he saw my reaction. "Ehh, sorry for, you know… worrying you like that."

"It's fine, just… ugh."

"If it's any consolation, I can give you a hug." He opened his arms up.

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"I don't know. It makes me feel better sometimes."

"How about this? Fuck no."

Connat nodded slowly, putting his arms down and nudging the glass of milky liquid in my direction. "No need to be rude about it, ey? Here, have something to drink."

I picked up the hot drink and took a swig of it. It tasted essentially like nothing, which was good enough. The aroma started getting through the coat of ash on my head, and the liquid tasted rich and deep, a hint of sugar and cream. Finally, I was starting to taste things normally again. I hoped that the slight taste of charcoal would go away after a few sips, and sure enough, it did. I breathed a sigh of relief. "This… I can taste this."

"It's great, isn't it? Straight from Kiellar. Oh, speaking of Kiellar…" Connat paused, clearing his throat. "If you're… ready for another mission, there's one available."

"No, wait, let me fucking guess. You're going to send me to another shithole where I'm just going to fetch something for the powers that be like the galactic fucking express, and then give the shit to them while they throw money at me and laugh like the fat cats they are."

"What would you rather do? That is literally the least intense mission I can give you. I even made sure it was so peaceful that even bringing guns in would be pointless. The planet doesn't even have any armed forces of any kind."

"It's also probably, you know, dead. Barren. No fucking life there whatsoever. Either that or it's so full of life that it's just a huge metropolis."

"Do you even know what Kiellar is? I'll tell you what it is, comrade. It's essentially the only place in Perseus that doesn't mass-produce its food. They use all these ancient secrets… crop rotation and the like. Completely unheard of anywhere else. Of course, the food is really damn expensive because it's not grown in droves, but you get the idea."

"So what are you getting at?"

"It's not dead. Anything but."

"What's saying all that bullshit isn't covering up something terrible?"

"I'm just telling it like it is. I've never actually been to Kiellar myself. I cannot tell you what you'll encounter there, but considering what missions we have available right now… that one's probably the least taxing."

"Please, do elaborate on what other missions there are."

"Assassination, military tours, and reconnaissance of warzones."

"…fine, just… let me get out of bed."

"Take your time. There's no rush."

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "What are we even doing there, anyway?"

"The briefing just said we were going to capture some black box. Not black box as in those things you shove into cockpits in case a ship crashes, but just… a black hollow square."

"Yeah, so we're just getting a black hollow square. No, seriously, Connat, what's in the box?"

"I would've told you that by now if I knew."

"So we have no idea what we're taking back to these 'benefactors' at all, do we?"

"Nope. But hey, it's money! We gotta make a living somehow," Connat grinned.

"Didn't you say we had plenty of money?"

"We'll have to do this mission eventually. Money doesn't last forever."

"How long do we have?"

"Box is apparently hidden so well that it'll last for years."

"…right. Who's coming with me?"

"Well, until Ace gets back on his feet, which'll be a while, you're going solo. I have to be around to take care of Ace, and Baron has to fly the ship."

"Great. So I'm going to this 'lush' planet at the outer end of Amaridian to get this 'black box' that we have no idea about just so we can make a couple of bucks."

"…yeah."

"Ugh… well, sign me up. It'll be a good mix up, I guess."

"Excellent, comrade! I'm glad you're not letting this whole thing get the better of you."

"Fuck it. There's no use getting upset about it."

"Eh… that's the spirit, man…? Just get yourself cleaned up and we'll discuss how we're going to do this, alright?"

"Okay… hey, Connat? Thanks for the food."

Connat grins. "Don't mention it. Freelancers always look out for each other." He patted my shoulder and walked out, letting me be. I took this chance to turn on the television and watch something.

The Karene Broadcasting System, or KBS, was the go-to source for information if you lived in neutral territory, which is becoming increasingly cramped and small as time goes on. These areas are probably the only bastion of freedom left in Perseus, to be perfectly honest. Even though you need to do some crazy stuff to actually succeed as a neutral, at least the option is there. The KBS were currently running a documentary called, "Operation Impending Doom: Doomed from the Start". Hah. You've got to admit, that name was absolutely atrocious.

The ticker at the bottom scrolled through and I didn't take too much notice to it before one blurb of text caught my eye. "Zezzer Nightclub burns down, kills six. Irken Ministry of Information says fire was an 'unfortunate accident' and that evacuation efforts were mostly successful." And then nothing. No 'breaking news', no reporting on the incident. Just nothing. One of the busiest nightclubs in Imperial territory gets burned down with everyone in it and nobody bats an eye. It made me sick. I scoffed and continued watching the documentary.

It shouldn't take a genius to realize why OID2 was 'doomed from the start', as they say. The entire plan was a pipedream. The goals of the entire operation were to capture the galactic center, spread through to the other arms, and capture neutral territory to ensure Irken dominance in the known world. Of course, the plan was almost entirely created by the Control Brains without the variables of radiation and political ramification incorporated in. With those factors, even after the Irkens got into full swing, OID2 was a resounding failure.

Expansion westward would secure Irken dominance in the galaxy, which was true. However, there was one problem with that. Pyhene, otherwise dubbed as the god element, was discovered during the Age of Eternal War several millennia back. Irk was entirely ravaged by war, fighting over the scarce resources left on their planet. The surrounding planets in the solar system had been colonized, but it would take an unfeasible amount of time to travel to another star and set up shop there.

Pyhene changed that. When a large cruiser of unknown origin crashed into a nearby battlefield, vases filled with spherical, chrome-like objects were located within. According to the legends of old, the atoms are so tightly packed together that, unless broken, the elements would not decay. Once they were, the Pyhene would release incredible amounts of energy. It didn't take long to realize that an FTL drive with this newfound element could be developed. Named after the element and the scientist who discovered it, the Pyhene drive was born, where instead of the ship moving around space, space moved around the ship.

The sheer amount of energy it emits is where the problem lies. The galactic center is absolutely riddled with raw, already broken Pyhene, which is so radioactive that entire planets have had their ozone layers vaporized away and their surfaces scorched just by being in proximity to a small block of it. When the Empire started colonizing the center, this became apparent fairly quickly. Irkens died left and right, vomiting their organ sacs out and growing tumours all over their body. Some of the results were very gruesome.

Soldiers, colonists, families, they all had bumps underneath the skin, black masses growing out externally to disfigure their bodies. It was a terrible experience for everyone involved, I'm sure. Exposure to even the tiniest amount of Pyhene was a death sentence. The Irkens tried to brute-force their way through the Pyhene belt that separated Perseus from the rest of the galaxy, severely underestimating the size of that belt and thinking it had many pockets without radiation in it. That attempted colonization killed more than Imperial aggression to the east.

Not only did the colonization of the center put the Empire to shame, it also diverted resources away from the operations in the east, delaying the invasion further. In order for the Empire to claim the east, they had to send in the invaders. Those guys were a group of specially trained Irken Elites that were tasked with infiltrating and preparing planets for Imperial integration. This was fairly successful, and it ended with the capture of many planets in the Vortian Republic, including the capital itself. Even after OID2 had ended, the assimilation of the Vortians still goes strong. There was no such luck with the other neutral parties.

When the Vortian Republic was officially annexed by the Empire, alarm bells rang for the UR and Amaridian. Not only did the Vortian Republic directly border the UR and act as a buffer state between them and the Empire, the Vortians were also the gateway into other neutral territory that the UR profited off of. To make matters worse, it showed the flimsy and de facto non-existent alliance and trade agreement between the Irkens and the Vortians for the first time. The UR, under understandable threat of invasion, told the Empire to stop expanding immediately, and never move into neutral territory again. Amaridian echoed these statements, claiming that the annexation of Vort was "unwarranted and downright jingoistic".

After protest from the UR and Amaridian, the Empire's war machine ground to a halt. Luckily, they weren't suicidal enough to think that they could get away with more expansion, and all military operations in neutral territories ceased. Looking back at it, OID2 failed most of its war goals, but to be fair, they got the Vortian Republic in its entirety. That helped the Empire recover from its failures rather quickly. Other than that, though, OID2 was a terribly-planned operation that quite honestly should've been scrapped.

I love documentaries like this. I always came out of it learning something new, learning facts about history that could impress a few people or two if I discussed them at length. I also feel… I don't know, proud of the UR and Amaridian for halting that invasion when they could. They stood up for neutral territory in a way, even if it was because they were concerned about their own factions. If Vort weren't so close to the UR, then I guarantee you nobody would care. They'd shrug and continue on with their day. But pretty much all neutral territory is bordering the three big factions, so there was no way the Empire could've captured any of it without causing suspicion.

There was nothing else really interesting on after the documentary ended, so I got up slowly, grabbed the tray on the table, and carried it over to the main area. A small kitchen area was designated in a corner of the room, with a sink, small stove, and a fridge. It wasn't too bad of a set up. Beats what I had to deal with on Astarte. I dumped the soup out, plopped my dishes in the sink and started washing. The water burned slightly against my skin, and I winced. The water filter must've been turned off. Eventually, the pain became unbearable. I lifted my hands out and dried them off quickly, my hand sizzling quite a bit. Unfiltered water to Irken skin is like holding a soldering iron tightly in your palm while it warms up. It's tolerable for a while before it gets extremely painful.

I heard someone flick a switch behind me, and the filter whirred and clicked in the wall. I tested the water again. The filter was working. I looked behind me and saw Baron standing by the switch. "I don't get it. Why do Vortians like bathing in filthy water, anyway?"

I shrug. "I guess they just find it uncomfortable or something."

"Can't be more uncomfortable than that fucking terrible burning sensation Irkens get when this shitty filter isn't on."

"Hey, since when did Ace bathe? I thought he was curled up in bed still."

"I don't know. I just got back here; don't expect me to know all this shit."

"You're not… watching over him?"

"I've got Connat for that. He's an insane bastard, you know."

"I realized. So where did you go?"

"Friend's place. We played cards."

"…come on, honestly. We just witnessed a couple hundred people burn to death, and then you go and fucking play cards."

"Sometimes a guy needs to play cards to calm down."

"It better be a fucking good card game, for Irk's sake. What were you playing?"

"Uh…" Baron rubbed at the back of his head, biting his lower lip slightly. "Go Fish…?"

"…bullshit. Pure bullshit. You better stop lying to me right now. Tell me what the hell you were doing."

"It's none of your fucking concern, okay?" A slight pink tinge crept up on his face.

I walked up close to him. "What, you afraid I'll think badly of you? Afraid that maybe you'll spill out something that I wouldn't approve of?" I stared right at him.

Baron paused for a while, his cheeks flushing more. He decided to spit it out. "Okay, fine. I was watching a fluffy romance flick."

"…oh."

"Fuck, can't a guy watch some quality film with a friend to get his mind off of what happened?"

"I… didn't expect you to be into that sort of thing."

"Yeah, well, I am. Congratulations. You now know pretty much my darkest secret."

"I'm sure you have some bigger secrets than that. Maybe you should just let it out?"

"No fucking thanks." He sighs, looking down at the ground. "Just don't tell anyone about this, alright?"

"It's not like I care enough about it to tell anyone."

"Yeah, fine, thanks." He crosses his arms. "So… we're going to Kiellar, huh?"

"Yeah. When's the shuttle ready?"

"Whenever you are."

"Right, I still need to shower and stop feeling miserable for once."

"Well, do whatever you fucking need to. I really don't care too much."

"…fair enough. Oh, those dishes… yeah, they're in need of cleaning."

"Don't worry about those. Connat'll probably get them later."

"Hey… if you need a friend to watch your films with, I wouldn't mind it too much."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Just… take your shower."

With a nod, I turned around and headed toward the washroom. Baron stood there for a while, twiddling his fingers. His face was so flushed that I wouldn't be able to tell what Baron's skin colour was with it. After a little bit, he went to the sink and started doing the dishes. He didn't need to do that, but I guess having him do it now and get it over with is better than having those dishes rot in there until Connat comes out of Ace's room. Something tells me they're going to be in there for a while. I went into the cramped and pure white washroom, looking around.

On one end of the washroom, there was an apparel assembly with its doors open, and on the other end was where the actual bath and shower was. A sink and mirror was flush against the wall, only a step or two away from the door. I put my hands on the sink and leaned toward the mirror, inspecting myself. Smudges of grime and ash covered my abnormally pale face, a collection of grit in my tear duct. I rubbed the grit out and washed it down the drain. Under my eyes were slight dark bags, and my eyelids refused to open up more than halfway.

A good shower would fix me up, I thought to myself. After all, Connat said it would help, so I might as well try. I got my clothes off, turned on the tap, and stepped in. Showers were always liberating for me. In the first few decades of my life, back in the Empire, my planet had terrible filtration systems. Showers were both incredibly rare and, when they happened, extremely painful. I never liked them too much until Connat took me to Karene. Instead of the burn I was so used to, the only feeling I got from that experience was warm comfort.

I looked down at the drain, blackened water running down as I stood there. I put some cleaning product in my hand and ran it through my antennae, the grey soot washing right out. The cleaning product always smelt a little strange, and rubbing against the antennae sounded like somebody rubbing a balloon against the side of my head. It was comforting in its own way, although you really need to get used to it. I took some liquid soap, put it on an applicator, and started washing the rest of my body. It was at this point I realized that the paleness of my skin wasn't only applicable to my face, but my entire body.

I turned up the heat. Maybe my skin was just cold or something. I really don't know the reason why I was so pale, but it worried me. I leaned against the shower wall after I rinsed myself off and contemplated what was going on right now. I'm sure it was nothing, but it still rang warning bells in my head. What if I was sick? Nah, couldn't be. I'd still be in bed if I were sick. It's just trauma, I thought to myself. Nothing wrong with a bit of trauma. Besides, Connat said that the shower would fix me up. Why wouldn't I trust him? Steam accumulated in the shower, and I soaked it in as much as I could.

When I stepped out and dried myself off with a towel, I didn't feel much better. Sure, my muscles might've been a tad more relaxed and my sense of smell was back, but everything else was terrible. My skin had almost lost its entire colour, my once bright red eyes a dullish mahogany. I started coughing. At first, only spit came out, but then I realized that there was a tiny bit of pink as well. Now I was sure something was wrong, but a wave of denial washed over me. I wasn't sick. I could go to Kiellar. Nothing was wrong with me. I took initiative and got dressed in a Vortian-made explorer outfit. It was rugged enough to explore the wilderness, but still looked presentable for city hubs. It was a good mix for what I thought Kiellar would be. I was going to go to Kiellar. Nothing would stop me at this point.

I slowly walked outside into the main area. Baron was sitting down and reading a newspaper, eating a bag of chips he found in the cupboard. It was only when he put the paper down that he noticed me. A look of concern grew on his face. "…you okay, kid?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. Don't call me… kid again."

"Fine… just worried, jeez." Baron got up, looking to the door. "Right, you ready to get out of here?"

"Where's the… shuttle?"

"The dock's actually in my room."

"Damn… that's convenient."

"Isn't it? Come, this way." Baron sat up and walked over to the door to his room, opening it up. "You better not fucking laugh when you come in here."

"Why? What's there to laugh at-" Oh. That's why. His wall was absolutely littered with posters for incredibly bad romance films. Luckily, I didn't find it really that funny. Okay, he has a certain taste in movies, so what. It's not like it matters, really.

"Watch your step. A lot of posters fell off the wall. I still have to pick them up."

"Right… so there's the dock." I pointed to a circular door in the wall, heading towards it.

"Yep… hey, kid-"

"Stop calling me kid."

"The shuttle's a two-seater. You can come into the cockpit with me."

"Sure, fine, whatever."

"You sure you're alright?" Baron punched in a code into a keypad next to the door.

"I'm sure." We both walked inside of the shuttle, the windows of the cockpit wide and encompassing. The vast expanse of space extended in front of us, the twinkle of stars intense and bright. Baron took a seat in the pilot's chair, and I sat next to him.

"Beautiful, ain't it?"

I looked to the side, the grey and ridged walls of the station rippling around in every direction. A clamp was the only thing keeping the station and the shuttle together. "Yeah…"

He typed in some letters into his coordinate system, focusing. "Right, we're going to Kiellar?"

"Kiellar, yes."

"Okay… you know the coordinates?"

"Nope."

"Right, the search says it's right in the far east of Perseus. That right?"

"I think so."

"Alright." Baron pressed a button, undocking us from the station with a loud clang. The whirr of machinery echoed in the cabin, and something clicked. "There's even a door cover. Shit's amazing. Oh, if we need to go on a spacewalk for whatever reason, the back has the airlock."

I strapped myself in. "I'll be sure to remember that in case something goes horribly wrong."

The ship jolted back, and we started accelerating quickly. The vibration of the Pyhene drive in the back intensified, and a reverberating rattle emitted from the back. I was pulled back into my chair, holding onto the armrests. The ship slowly stopped accelerating, and soon we were drifting full speed into space. Nothing was pulling us down any more. We were floating, our seatbelts the only thing keeping us in our seat. Baron let out a slight, content smile. "And we're off. Oh, you want the mass layer turned on?"

"What the hell is that?"

"Artificial gravity, dumbass."

"Oh, sure." Baron flicked a switch and we sunk back to our seats. I leaned back and sighed, staring into the black void. This was going to be a rather long flight. That's when I started writing in my journal once again.

"…so. What ya writing?"

"Journal."

"…why?"

"I just get bored sometimes. Need to kill the time somehow."

"You're not writing anything bad about me, are you?"

"Nah. I'm just telling things like they are."

"No bias at all?"

"Well… I don't know, whatever bias is there went unnoticed."

"We all have a few biases here and there. Just be careful with them, alright?"

I nodded, relaxing in my chair. Baron was focused on piloting for most of the trip, which took much longer than the trip from Karene to Zezzer. That was quite a bit of time spent just sitting down in a seat next to another person who didn't really pay much attention to you. Not that I can complain; he did his job very well. There were no rocky moments at all, and whatever hazards there were he avoided completely and skilfully. His reputation as a great shuttle pilot wasn't entirely unwarranted, and I gained a lot of respect for the guy when I actually saw what he did for a living.

We're approaching Kiellar now. I'll write my next journal when I get back.


	5. Kiellar

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I've been fairly busy for the past month and tried to work on the chapter as much as I could. Just note that you shouldn't expect a new chapter every week. That schedule's too taxing on me and quite honestly I'd rather write when I enjoy it instead of forcing out a chapter I might not like. But anyway, here's chapter 5. Enjoy.

Chapter 5: Kiellar

"How are you enjoying the atmosphere, Malos?"

I grumbled, my face flat on the table. The clink of cutlery and plates resonated around me as I slowly lifted my face up, dabbing the drool off of my face while I made eye contact with the source of the noise. A strange and rather plain-looking Irken sat in front of me, a look of concern on his face. "Hmm… you don't seem too well. Are you alright?"

"Who… who the fuck are you? How do you know my name?"

"No need to be that rude here. I already told you who I am."

"…seriously… don't toy with me. I'm not feeling too well."

"We introduced ourselves an hour ago, didn't we? Yeah, I remember that."

"Bull… bullshit. I would've remembered if we met before."

His expression straightened out into a stoic one as he adjusted his tie. "But you didn't. Am I seriously not ringing any bells?"

"I… no."

The man sighed and settled his hands into his lap. "Well, since you can't seem to remember anything that's happened in the past hour, I guess I'll reintroduce myself. Call me C. Oh, before you ask, you came to this restaurant on your own volition. I was simply obliging your request."

"Ugh… fuck, my head hurts. Did you knock me out or… or what?"

"I wouldn't dare lay a finger on you. The only sign that you were even unconscious was that you were laying your head down on the table. You probably should've called in sick; I'm somewhat concerned about your health."

"N-no… I'm fine, don't worry about it."

He took a sip from his drink, fixing the lapels on his black suit jacket. My eyes widened, and he grinned. "Oh, this? Do I have something on my jacke-"

"Where did you get that uniform?"

"…this 'uniform' was purchased at a store in the middle of Imperial territory. I couldn't actually find this suit anywhere outside of the Empire, so I have to deal with these tacky jackboots."

"You… you wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that suited men have been following me around for two days straight, would you?"

He stared at me for a moment before looking to the waiter coming towards us. "Oh, look at that, there's our food." The Irken waiter was holding onto a tray covered with a small, shiny dome. I just hoped I ordered a scuptus filet right before I fell asleep and spontaneously lost my memory.

"Good evening, sirs. Who ordered the scuptus filet?" C pointed at me, and I nodded. The waiter lifted the dome and placed the plate of what was the absolute juiciest and perfectly brown scuptus steak in front of me. I gasped in delight while C smirked, his own plate of shelled aqua mammals revealed to him as well.

C placed the butter to his side. "Thank you." The waiter walked away slowly, satisfied with his work. My mouth was still gaping in an unconscious reaction to the food. "I'm assuming you're a fan?"

"Good Irk, yes."

"The steak's been basted in butter after being seared to perfection. That's how you get that brown colour. Old trade secret."

"So… those rumours about better food are true?"

"Well, it's not exactly the quality of the food that matters. It does help a fair bit, but the fact is if a steak is cooked right, it'll taste good no matter what quality the scuptus is."

"You… a cook or what?" I anchored my fork into the filet and cut into it.

"Sometimes I cook my own food, yes. It's really a lost art for Irkens, isn't it? So used to eating junk food and drinking soda."

"Well, it's not like you can… place the blame on them. It's cheap and a good way to get hydrated when you don't have any filtration system on your planet."

"Filtration systems are needed for day to day life. Wouldn't it be a given for the Empire to have filtration systems on every one of their assets? Planets, ships, etcetera."

"That… that couldn't be further from the truth." I finally took a bite of the filet. The flesh easily gave way, the juices flowing from the inside into my mouth, flooding my mouth with pure flavour. "Oh… oh jeez, this is good." My voice was muffled slightly, and I gnawed slowly on the scuptus. C chuckled a bit.

"It is good, isn't it? I always like the food when I come over to this planet." He took an aqua mammal breaker and started to break the shell, cracking it along its back and spreading the shell apart. He took out a nodule of meat, dipping it in the butter and popping it in his mouth. "Mmm… that's good."

"I never liked going through the… effort of cracking those open."

"It gets easier the more you do it." He took out an entire strip of aqua mammal meat and smothered it in butter, throwing it into his mouth and chewing slowly. He swallowed and pointed to me. "You know… the type of food somebody eats says a lot about that person. I mean, scuptus filets are pretty easy to cut and eat, and from that I can tell you're a no-frills person. People who eat shelled aqua mammals like me… well, we just like to work a little bit harder for our reward."

"If you don't mind me asking… what do you do for a living?"

"It's funny you asked…" He dabbed his mouth with a napkin, relaxing into his chair. "I have operations going on in Amaridian space. There are restaurants, shopping malls, and shipping companies that all run under me. Naturally, this makes me pretty… wealthy."

"So you're one of those rich fat cats in Amaridian… that decide to exploit all of the connections and pile of wealth they were born with instead of giving it to the poor?"

C sighed. "Oh, Malos, Malos, Malos… I am giving the money to the poor. My enterprises are on the top five-hundred for employee earnings in the entire Amaridian sector. I'd also like to remind you that I am not keeping any of the wealth in my pocket; the only place that gets money that I haven't earned myself is my company. I intend to keep it that way."

"Why the hell am I having dinner with you again?"

"You had a mission, remember?"

"…you're the guy who's hiring me."

"That's me. I wanted to talk to you about it in person for security reasons. This is important information that I wouldn't trust with anyone else."

"So you talk about it in a crowded restaurant. Right… security reasons."

"I own this restaurant, so this is about as private and secure as I can possibly get. Do you really believe that, in any sort of circumstance, I would divulge information without knowing I could trust you or the people around me?"

"I don't know… I've only known you for about fifteen minutes now." I chewed on another glorious piece of scuptus.

"Correction, an hour and fifteen minutes."

"Yeah, well, it's fifteen to me. Even so… an hour still isn't enough time to judge how dumb you are."

"You'll just have to take my word for it, then. I'm not too daft by anyone's standard."

"Right… well, get on with it. Tell me what you need me to do."

"Not so fast. I need to know you'll accept the mission before I tell you anything else."

"I… it's about this box, isn't it? Yeah… yeah, I don't need your info, do I?"

"You don't know where you're supposed to go, and that's what I'm going to tell you. So what's it going to be, Malos? Yes or no?"

"I didn't… didn't come all the way to Kiellar to refuse this mission, okay? Just… give me the location."

C took a map out of his jacket and gave it to me. "Enclosed is everything you could possibly need to know. Follow the instructions to the letter. You shouldn't have any problems if you do."

I tucked the map into one of my pockets. "Okay… hey, you never answered my question about… those suited men I keep seeing around."

"I'm sure they were just Imperial spec ops. I wouldn't be taking this risk with you if I had another bunch of 'suited men' to fetch that box for me, would I?"

"I don't know… your suit looks really similar to what those guys were wearing."

"…to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't have worn this suit if I knew you'd be, pardon my word choice, freaked out over it. I just think it looks nice on me."

I put my cutlery down on the table abruptly, rubbing my mouth with a nearby napkin. "I guess that… wraps it up, huh?"

"Uh… I believe so, yes. Oh, Malos?" C points to the window. A torrential outpour of rain pattered against the glass, the streets outside flooded. "I think I should give you a ride."

I exhaled and got out of my seat, C following suit. I walked toward the window and put my hands behind my back, mumbling slightly. "How are we going to… go out there unprotected?"

C took out an umbrella. "With this." He unfastened the strap around it and let the umbrella arms loose, staring at me slightly. "You're absolutely sure you can do this?"

"Even if I weren't, I might as well… make myself useful before collapsing on the ground or whatever."

"That's very encouraging." C scowled slightly before leaving a tip on the table and opening the door for me. He deployed his umbrella and held it above me as I went through the stormy streets. The swish of water being scattered underneath moving tires and the smack of drop after drop of water against the concrete overwhelmed my senses.

I could barely hear anything, so when C said something, I only noticed his mouth move. "What… what was that?"

I'm sure it took a lot of effort from C to listen to my weak voice in the storm, but he managed. "I said my car's over there!" He points to a black car, keeping the umbrella completely still on me. "You could've spoken up a little!"

I shrugged and followed C to the best of my ability, trailing behind slightly. He had to slow down to make sure I didn't fall behind. When we finally got to the car, he opened the door and I plopped right on the seat. He then closed the back door, made his way to the front, and got in the driver's seat. The water dripped and drizzled against the car window, and the black interior of the car felt incredibly cozy.

"So… what did you call this thing again?"

"It's an automotive. It uses electrical power to turn the wheels at the bottom, and then you coast along the ground."

"Why not just… use a cruiser or something people are familiar with?"

"Aerospace and land travel is heavily restricted on Kiellar. Ships disturb the peace, while, say, monorails require systems and infrastructure that would damage the environment. People take their ecology seriously around here."

"Yeah… okay, building a bunch of roads won't damage the environment in any way, nope, it's fine."

"If we go back to my previous example of monorails, those pollute a lot more than just a bit of concrete on the ground. You need power to run through the rails. You can't really hook up wires all the way to another planet, you know."

We drove along the road, going through a few checkpoints before heading toward a vast rainforest. Trees extended as far as the eye could see, all of which were teeming with wildlife and flora. When we entered, the inside of the car darkened, and because the windows were tinted, we couldn't really see anything inside or outside. "Oh… those leaves are… green?"

"Beautiful, isn't it? Listen, I'll drive you up as far as I can, then you'll have to make the rest of the journey yourself. It won't take you very long, I'm sure."

"Why can't you just… drive me all the way there?"

"This car can't go off-road. First of all, because it's illegal, and second of all, we're in the middle of a rainforest. This thing can't squeeze through there at all."

"…oh."

"Malos… if something happens to you, just make sure you get back to the surface with the box. I'll get some EMTs to pick you up if you need it-"

"I'm… not sick."

"You've been out of breath ever since you woke up. Don't think I don't notice those pauses you've been making." After a few minutes of silence, he turned the car into a side road, driving deeper into the rainforest. "We're almost there. This should be a quick mission. All you need to do is walk in, grab the box, and walk back out."

"Why don't you… go and get it yourself if it's that simple?"

"Well... again, it's been a while since I've been in the area. I'm not about to take any unnecessary chances." C brought the car to a halt at the end of the road. "Well, here we are. Just remember, you can get lost in this place easily. Try not to trail off too much."

"Right… just use the map. I got it."

"Good. Now… out you go." I nodded, opening the back door and stepping outside.

"Will I… see you again?"

"Let's just focus on getting that box first, shall we?"

I closed the door and looked out into the forested area. The tinted windows blocked out most of the colour, so when I stepped out, the vibrant greens surprised me. The rain had stopped; the only evidence there ever was rain was the slickness of the road and the dampness of the leaves. I didn't want to linger too long, so I took the map out of my jacket. The paper was plastered with sticky notes; each one had a different label on it, along with a line was drawn in marker from where I was right now to where I was supposed to go. I rotated the map a bit to make sure the road was oriented properly. I had to head northwest. That was fairly straightforward.

My jackboots dusted against the tall grass, crunching under my foot as I walked toward my objective, a few rays of golden sunshine peeking out from the tall and encompassing canopy up top. I witnessed a lot of interesting things on my journey. There was this one scaly animal that had no legs and slithered across the ground, slinking its tongue out every few seconds. The tongue was forked; it had many similarities with an Irken tongue, except it was smooth and separated in the middle. It had incredibly long fangs in its mouth that sometimes dripped a clear, thin liquid. I didn't get near enough to touch it. You can never tell how dangerous those things are.

The rainforest, with its alien trees and unexplored depths, seemed to only have creatures with a variety of scales inside its boundaries. There were flying animals with large, sharp mouths and green skin circling around the deeper areas of the rainforest. That was when I saw the entrance. Thick branches covered the installation, and it stuck out like a sore thumb in its grey blandness, only being camouflaged into the rainforest with the overgrowth of nature.

A once bright red insignia marked the door, faded with age into a greyish-pink. The paint had chipped off with the trials of the wilderness, the door desolate and rusted. A triangle, separated by a circle and topped with antennae, betrayed the installation's origins immediately. This was an Imperial base. Curious, I tore the branches off of the door and threw them aside, pushing against the door with all my might. The hinges gave way and the rusted steel slammed against the concrete floor underneath.

As I entered, I could see a long, dark stairwell I had to go down staring directly at me. Not thinking too much of it, I descended the steps carefully. When I say dark, I mean it was almost pitch black, my eyes struggling to find rays of light to cling onto. By the time I had reached the bottom, I couldn't see in front of me. I felt for a light switch by scaling against the wall and finally found one. As the room was illuminated, I opened another nearby door to see where the staircase led. That was when I saw it.

There was more than one staircase. There were a lot, in fact. I was just on one landing. Each staircase went steadily lower into the installation with a few rooms on the landings, possibly for storage. I had to take a flashlight I found in one of those rooms down with me to make sure I could see where I was going, the darkness becoming unbearable further down. After about ten flights, I had reached the final landing. There were no extra rooms this time. There was only one door leading forward. I turned the handle and pushed the door aside. I was confused for the first few seconds. There was nothing. At least, it looked like nothing.

The room was completely black, the walls absorbing all of the light beaming out of my flashlight. It looked genuinely empty, as if matter itself did not exist in the room. There was only emptiness. As I gathered enough sense to enter the void-like space, I leaned against a wall and started to scale it slowly. My intuition kept screaming at me to check everywhere except the center; after all, placing it in the center was too obvious, right?

I shuffled the entire perimeter of the room before carefully stepping my way to the center. I bumped into a square object almost instantly. There it was. I didn't hesitate to squat down and lift the heavy and black box upward, straining under the weight and losing my breath. At that moment, a few things went through my mind. Who would put a black box in an equally black room? Why was the box so heavy? Why was I so out of breath when I could carry twice this amount easily? Despite these questions that begged for answers, I struggled and stepped back up the stairs. I took very generous breaks on the landings I had previously skimmed through, panting and sweating for a good few minutes before going up the next flight of stairs, repeating my painful routine with every floor.

I could barely breathe by the time I got to the second-last landing. The strain on my body was too much, and before I knew it, I was vomiting up a pinkish, thick liquid. The regurgitation came out in droves, splattering the floor and the pants of my clothing liberally. Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain, and I curled up on the floor, wheezing. I really should've stayed home. The vomiting and weakness continued even after I started another flight of stairs. A few times I puked right on my legs, but I didn't care at that point. I was getting that box to the surface. There was nothing that was going to stop me.

I was at my last landing. This was it. Another few minutes of rest and I'd be at the surface. I rubbed my hand down my face, feeling a tiny bump that my hand went across that shouldn't have been there. I felt my chin. On the front of my jaw was this large, hard mass made of bone. A bit of rubbing irritated and split the skin surrounding the mass. It took all my effort to stop myself from screaming. I had no idea what was happening, but the only way I would get healthcare was if I went up to the surface. Lifting up the box nearly made my legs give out, and just like that, I was making my way up the final stretch. I pushed the door to the surface aside and breathed in the fresh air.

That was when my legs gave out.

The heavy box wedged itself into the ground as I dropped it and fell down onto the cold grass. I held onto my abdomen in stabbing agony, crying out and starting to writhe at the sheer pain in my stomach. My brain couldn't take any of what was going on, and quickly went into shock, my body too weak to even shout. The last thing I saw before I went unconscious was a group of men dressed in that same damned uniform, but before I could think too much about it, my senses faded out completely.

A countless amount of time passed before I awakened with a start, disoriented. "Malos… Malos. Hey, man, you awake yet?" Lights were shone in my eyes, and I squinted in a feeble attempt to filter the blinding brightness out. The blips of monitoring machines grew louder, and my senses came back to me one by one. Cloth covered my face, wrapping itself around my neck and my mouth.

"Fuck… where…?"

Connat held onto my hand, worried. "Hey, you're going to be alright, man. Those guys gave you meds for it."

"For… for what?"

"We…" Connat looked down, sighing. "We must've gotten a batch of faulty iodide pills. You had radiation sickness and… I'll just let the doctor tell you when he comes in."

"Oh… are you…?"

"Oh yeah, they gave me some of the meds you got. Scary thought, heheh… you getting sick first saved me from having that trouble."

"Guess I… took a bullet for the team?"

"I'd think so."

I patted his hand and nodded. "When's the doctor coming in? My jaw feels a bit numb."

Connat chose to stay silent, frowning solemnly. The door to the hospital room opened swiftly, and a Vortian in a white coat and grey overalls walked in.

"If you'll excuse me, Connat, I have to talk with the patient in private."

"Right…" Connat looked down at his feet as made his way to the door.

The doctor pulled my dressings back and grabbed a mirror, holding it behind his back. "How's the jaw doing?"

"I can't feel it at all… why?"

"How do I put this… you… had a large tumour on the cleft of your chin. It spread all the way through the lower parts of your jaw. We had to remove the affected area and replace it with a prosthetic."

"…what's the mirror for?"

"I wanted to show you exactly what we did so that you got a better idea of what you look like."

"Then do it. I don't have all day."

The doctor sighed and brought the mirror up to my face. Naked steel poked out through my torn flesh, crusted-over pink fluid scarring the metal. The cut started from the bottom of my teeth all the way to the hinge, sutures the only thing connecting my skin to the prosthetic. My eyes widened in shock as I witnessed my new visage. "We tried to make it look as appealing as what we could for the time being. We can't get any synthetic skin replacement on until your jaw heals, which will take probably a few weeks."

"Fuck… fuck fuck fuck… I look hideous."

"Listen, this is just a temporary thing… the skin will heal into your prosthetic eventually, and we'll be able to make it look as good as new. Alright?"

"But how am I going to go out in public like this?"

"You won't. We have an alternative."

"Then why didn't you put it on during the surgery?!"

The Vortian grabbed a large piece of black cloth and placed it on my chest. "Do you really want a bandana surgically grafted to your skin?"

"Oh." I grabbed the bandana and brought the fistful of fabric to my face. I extended it out to look at the cloth, nodding in approval. "Good enough."

I folded the piece of cloth in half and wrapped it around the back of my head, tying it together and tightening. The Vortian held the mirror for me again. "See? That doesn't look too bad on you."

"You're right… It does look kind of okay."

The doctor nods. "You want me to turn on the television?"

"Sure, I'd like that."

The television was clicked on with a remote.

"BREAKING NEWS: Terrorist Attack on Imperial Armada, death toll estimated at about 5,000,000-10,000,000"

"-that's right, Kil, we could not get press or rescue workers on the scene due to the extensive amount of what appears to be ionizing radiation in the direct vicinity of the attack. So far, death toll estimates range upward to ten million. We have no word on what happened to the Tallest, but the Empire is currently expecting the worst and has already made preparations to get a new Tallest into office."

"Right, Tre, do we have information on the whereabouts of these terrorists?"

"There are no leads currently on where the terrorists are right now, but authorities are trying to catch the culprits and make sure no other attacks happen in the future. Back to you, Kil."

The camera switches back to the newsroom, a slow zoom in to the Irken anchor sitting behind a desk. His forehead was damp with sweat and his posture was slumped. "For those that are just tuning in, a possible terrorist attack on the Imperial Armada's flagship, the 'Massive', had taken place earlier this morning, where a malfunctioning Pyhene drive underwent a meltdown that destroyed and fatally irradiated most, if not all, of the Imperial Armada. The Empire's stated a few hours ago that it would launch a criminal investigation, as many leads have pointed to purposeful hacking and sabotage of the Pyhene drive's cooling systems by a terrorist organization. General Dok of the Irken Military Police said a few hours ago that, and I quote, 'Rescue efforts will happen once proper precautions have been made to ensure the safety of all personnel during these operations.' So far, there has been no confirmation on who will replace the late Tallest, although the Empire is getting closer to announcing the candidates. Now, we go to press member Gre on Irk."

"Thanks, Kil. As you can see behind me, security is definitely tightening up and the Imperial government has deployed soldiers into the streets to prevent any other secondary attacks. There are already memorials currently taking place planet-wide, mourning, perhaps prematurely, the loss of the Irken Heads of State, Almighty Tallest Red and Almighty Tallest Purple. The biggest mourning ceremony is taking place right outside of the Irken Congress, on Miyuki Square- hold on, there appears to be something going on in the square."

"Right, tell us about it."

"T-there looks to be some sort of white cloud rising from the crowd on Miyuki Square, make that several white clouds."

"Any idea on what might be in those clouds?"

"…right, it doesn't look like it's doing anything but annoying the Irkens in the cloud, and the authorities are confirming that it is indeed just a smoke bomb, possibly related to the ceremony currently going on. There are still no details on who is going to be the next Tallest, but from what we can tell, the Empire is taking no time to cry over spilled milk and is continuing normal operation. We should hopefully have a candidate by the time this day is out."

"Thanks, Gre. The overseer of Astarte and emergency ruler Cartao is prepared to make a statement in a few minutes. Stay tuned."

The doctor slowly walked out as the news jingle played. Half a million people. Half a million people are dead now. Commercials for Foodcourtia played with dissonant music in the background, shouting at you to eat your food before the news program started once again, whiplashing you back into the attack. Right now, there doesn't seem to be much going on. There are a few guards waiting for the arrival of Cartao. After all these years, I had forgotten what he looked like.

Oh. Oh Irk.

Okay. Okay, I get it. No, screw the journal right now. I need to figure out what the hell just happened.


End file.
